


The Last Skywalker

by poedameronsahijada (gompadre)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finn is a Jedi, Hux Thee Petty Bitch, LET FINN SAY FUCK, M/M, Tros fix-it, hopefully I'll sneak in a lot of clever prequels and original trilogy references, palpatine doesn't come back good riddance bitch, smitten Poe, zorii who? don't know her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gompadre/pseuds/poedameronsahijada
Summary: Finn and the Resistance take one last stand against the First OrderA TROS Fix-It
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	1. The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This was originally going to be a quick FinnPoe drabble about their missions between TLJ and TROS but now it's morphed into a Finn-centric Fix-It! I've changed a few canon things from TLJ, which are:  
> Everyone hates Holdo because she really screwed them over  
> Finn felt Luke's death too, and he's really confused about why he feels so upset about it since he never met Luke  
> The rest is mostly the same because I hate TLJ too much to invest the energy necessary to fix that clusterfuck.

Finn sort of loves playing dejarik. It’s a nice way to keep himself entertained, _especially_ when he and Poe are playing against Chewie (he still hasn’t figured out how the Wookiee is cheating but he will… _he will_ ). He loves that Poe always sits close enough for them to move as one person, shoulder and arm and thigh and calf welded together as they strategize (and lose to Chewie). But he also kind of hates that, because it’s such a kriffing massive distraction. Poe’s heat pressing against him, the fresh scent of Poe’s cologne, the way Poe grabs his hand whenever they make some progress with the game. And then there are the times when Finn is super into the game, his mind a blur of what the next possible move could be and he thinks Poe is just as into this game but—

But Poe is staring at _him_. With those big beautiful eyes. Well _kark_. Nothing makes Finn lose focus like knowing Poe is focusing on him instead of the game. This is also probably why Chewie always manages to win. The Wookiee _has_ to know what a distraction this is.

They’re playing solo now. This means it’s Finn versus Poe, a clean, fair game. It’s supposed to be a practice round to help them sharpen their dejarik skills, but it’s been a bust. For starters, Poe kriffing _sucks_. He’s hilariously bad at this game, which doesn’t make any sense to Finn because Poe’s a Commander, but there he is, absolutely sucking. And it’s not like Poe isn’t putting in effort; his eyes are on the dejarik board, intense, focused. Finn tries to hide his smile, chin on his hand, as he watches Poe calculate his next move.

Poe is distracting. At least when they’re playing against Chewie, Finn isn’t sitting across from Poe. But now he is, so Finn can see the unruly curl that always like to twist itself on Poe’s temple, and he can see the sweep of Poe’s long lashes, and the expanse of his collarbones.

Oh, stars. Poe is looking at him now.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me by staring it’s not going to work,” Poe huffs.

Thank the Force that’s what Poe thinks. Finn doesn’t even let himself savor the relief, leaning back with a smug smile.

“I don’t need to do anything,” Finn says, stretching. “My skills are enough to win.”

Poe narrows his eyes at Finn, looking back down at the grunting holograms with a fierceness in his eyes that’s almost comical, because Finn knows Poe’s going to lose.

“Just because you have a hot new jacket and you look good in it doesn’t mean you need to get cocky on me,” Poe mutters, punching in his next move.

Finn freezes. Did Poe just say he looks good? He keeps his eyes on the commander, waiting for confirmation, but Poe is way too wrapped up watching his move play out. He whoops, grinning at Finn, who jolts back into action. What did Poe just do?

Oh. He actually made a good move. Finn is impressed.

“What was that about good skills?” Poe says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Cocky Poe is hot. Cocky Poe will not win. Finn will make sure of it.

He leans forward, raising an eyebrow at Poe’s triumphant smile. He loves riling up Poe, because the commander still finds a way to lose spectacularly, no matter the intensity of his staring or the confidence of his taunts.

Finn takes a look at the board, pursing his lips. Poe’s move is good; his K’lor’slug hammers Finn’s Grimtaash, which is a retaliation for Finn stunning Poe’s Monnok for two turns. Still, not enough. Poe has three holomonsters left: the K’lor’slug, with full HP, the Monnok, with four HP left, and a decimated Kintan Strider. Finn has five holomonsters left, sans the newly ripped apart Grimtaash, but he’s not worried. He has his Mantellian Savrip hop over one square and crush the Monnok, which makes Poe groan.

“I don’t know why I bothered celebrating,” Poe says, faking a sob.

Finn snorts, leaning back with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Don’t gloat so much,” Poe grumbles.

But their eyes meet, and they both dissolve into laughter. Poe sucks his teeth, rubbing his face.

“I’m trying to be annoyed here, Finn,” he whines.

“Oh, what’s that got to do with me?” Finn guffaws.

“You need to stop being so ado— wait, is it my turn?” Poe asks, looking down at the board.

Finn almost doesn’t catch the question. Was Poe going to call him adorable? Was that it? Finn racks his brain for any other words that could possibly start with “ado” and the only other alternative he can think of is adorkable, and that doesn’t make the situation any better. He still feels heat creep up his neck.

But at last, he says, “Yeah, it’s your turn.”

Poe purses his lips, folding his arms across his chest. That shouldn’t be insanely hot, but here Finn is, freaking out over bare forearms and the triangle of bare chest framed by Poe’s open shirt. Ugh. Poe looks up at him and meets his eyes, which makes Finn’s brain short circuit again, but the commander leans forward and—

The game is off. Poe Dameron just turned off their game of dejarik.

“What was that for?” Finn squawks, staring at the blank board with a frown.

“I was going to lose anyway,” Poe says with a shrug.

“Wha— I wanted to beat you!” Finn whines.

“You practically already did!” Poe huffs. “I was just trying to spare myself some pain.”

Finn gives him a hard look, which Poe absolutely withers under.

“Giving up when it gets hard, huh. Tsk, how unlike you, Poe Dameron,” Finn sighs, stretching his legs.

Poe knocks his foot against Finn’s, wrinkling his nose when Finn smiles. “Did you miss the part where I said I was trying to spare myself some pain because this is not helping.”

“Right...I guess I’ll just have to jot this one down for the history books,” Finn says, sounding as disappointed as he can muster. “Commander Poe Dameron, more of a sore loser than Chewbacca.”

Poe kicks Finn’s foot, feigning hurt.

“Next time Chewie threatens to rip out your arms, don’t expect me to come to your defense,” Poe says.

“I think I can take on Chewie by myself,” Finn says, grinning when Poe’s jaw drops.

“You’re so full of—”

Chewie interrupts, growling at them to stop touching his dejarik board. Finn is pretty sure the Wookiee also says something about them contaminating the booth with their love-bug germs but since he’s still not super fluent in Shyriiwook, he just sticks his tongue out and slips out of the booth. Poe follows, his necks and ears flushed red. Okay, maybe Finn _did_ hear Chewie right. Chewie purrs out something else, gesturing to the Falcon’s exit with his head.

“Leia’s looking for me?” Finn asks.

Chewie rolls his eyes and nods. Ah kriff. That means Finn is late to Jedi training.

“See you later, buddy,” Poe says, squeezing Finn’s shoulder. “You better be ready for a rematch.”

Finn snorts. “What, so you can turn off the game halfway? I don’t think so.”

Poe cracks his knuckles and wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s on.”

Chewie laughs, ruffling Poe’s hair so roughly the commander stumbles.

“I think Chewie speaks for the both of us,” Finn says.

“You’re not being very nice, Finn!” Poe calls out after him.

Finn ducks out of the Falcon before Poe continues, biting his lip to keep from smiling. That doesn’t work though. And it’s just his luck that Snap is close by. Snap waves, then sees Finn’s goofy smile, and his eyes dart back to the Falcon. Finn turns to look, and of _course_ Poe is standing at the top of the ramp. Snap can’t see that Poe is wrestling his way out of Chewie’s grip, so the pilot gives Finn a knowing grin. Finn frowns at him. People always act so weird when they see him with Poe. They’re friends! Really close friends who spend all their time together. That’s it. (That’s not it, but it helps Finn control his crush if he keeps repeating that to himself).

“Don’t even say it,” Finn hisses at Snap, who gives him an affronted look.

Finn doesn’t give him a chance to answer. He stalks off to find Leia before Poe breaks free of Chewie and ropes him into some other scheme (but most importantly, before Snap has a chance to pounce on them and be an insufferable ass).

—

He’s not an idiot. He has a _feeling_ that Poe likes him back. It’s the jealous little quips (like the time Finn and Chewie decide to take the Falcon on a quick test run after repairs and leave Poe behind because he’s in a super secret meeting with Leia, and Poe is totally absolutely _not_ mad when he sees them later and says “Oh, without Poe?”), the lingering stares, the way Poe always makes sure to twine their fingers together when Finn takes his hand, the way Poe always _always_ buries his face in Finn’s neck when they hug (and that always _always_ makes Finn smile for hours).

But Finn refuses to confess. He has to have _proof_ that Poe likes him. And Poe is so sweet and charismatic and open with everyone that Finn always manages to convince himself (after several agonizing hours of overanalyzing their every interaction) that Poe is just being…Poe. That’s why Poe offers to teach Finn how to fly, which Finn gladly accepts. The thought of not being able to pilot a ship in the event that, Force forbid, Poe or Chewie or Rey are hurt…Finn doesn’t let himself finish that thought.

They practice every other day, usually before Finn has his Jedi training with Leia. It’s a monumental exercise in how to control his feelings when he’s been in close quarters with Poe for an hour, and if Leia’s knowing smiles are any indication, Finn’s not doing the best job of getting himself in control. Whatever. Everyone at the base has had or currently has a crush on Poe. It’s practically a built in feature of being a Resistance member.

Finn has his hands on the joystick, his grip a little too tight. They’re on a smaller ship that only requires one pilot, which means Poe stands next to Finn while Finn cruises over the nearby valley. He’s mostly starting to get the hang of it, letting the Force guide him through tight gullies and against strong winds. And then there are the moments, like now, when he doesn’t trust himself or the Force to save him. He’s too wound up, too self-conscious, holding on to the joystick like there’s nothing else in the universe.

“Easy, buddy. We’re a little too low,” Poe says.

Finn nods, but he doesn’t change course. Or, he _tries_ to change course and his hands refuse to cooperate. He swallows hard, exhales. Nothing works.

“Finn,” Poe says, a hint of concern in his voice. “Hey, you okay?”

“Maybe not,” Finn squeaks.

He hears Poe chuckle, but his eyes are glued to the view, the trees groaning and bowing under the heat of the ship as it cruises at a low altitude.

“Keep your grip loose,” Poe murmurs, and oh, he’s right next to Finn. Barely a hair’s breadth away.

The commander wraps his fingers over Finn’s, gently guiding the joystick up until the ship’s nose tilts enough to get them out of the tree-line.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to break atmo today,” Poe says, and when he chuckles his breath tickles the side of Finn’s neck. Kriffing stars.

“You assume correctly, Poe Dameron,” Finn mutters, his fingers finally relaxing around the joystick.

But Poe’s hand lingers, still warm and comforting on top of his own. Finn can feel the heat radiating off of Poe, and he sees the bouncing, unruly curl out of the corner of his eye. He gets the sudden urge to tug on it, but he needs to focus. Finn inhales deeply, then lets out his breath in a rush. He can do this.

They cruise down the valley, keeping the sun to their right until the valley drops open into a basin, a waterfall misting the air with rainbows. They’d never been this way before, but Finn likes it. The verdant lushness of Ajan Kloss still finds new ways to surprise him.

“Reminds me of home,” Poe says softly.

“Hm?”

“Reminds me of Yavin,” Poe repeats.

The commander sighs, dragging his thumb across Finn’s hand before he straightens. And just like that, Finn misses Poe’s warmth.

“Do you miss it?” Finn asks.

Poe doesn’t answer. In fact, it’s so quiet, Finn gets worried. He shifts in his seat to look up at Poe, who still stares out at the jungle that fills the basin.

“I can’t afford to miss it,” he finally answers.

Finn turns around again, readjusting his grip on the joystick. He’s never had a place to miss. None of the places he’d trained in mean anything to him. Well, he misses the routine, but that’s only because that was the only thing he’d ever known. The freedom of life on the base, the absolute chaos of people mingling (of different ranks, which baffled Finn at first), the lack of a structured day. It’s all still new. He’s been around long enough to start to love it, but he doesn’t have that same bone-deep connection to one place, that deep, bittersweet ache of being away from a place that housed all of one’s memories. The closest Finn has to that is people. Poe, Rey, Rose, Leia. They’re the closest he has to a home.

“Do you want to head back?” Poe asks.

Finn jumps, startled from his thoughts.

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Turn her around, buddy,” Poe says, perking up again.

Finn swallows hard. They’re at the lip of the waterfall, so Finn has space to maneuver, but he still doesn’t trust himself. Except he doesn’t have to. He takes a deep breath and lets the Force flow through him.

The ship dips, mist dusting the nose as Finn guides them around the basin and back around. They glide back into the valley, the sun now on their left.

“That was incredible, Finn,” Poe says, squeezing Finn’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, buddy,” Poe says. “No amateur pilot banks that smoothly on their third flight.”

Finn preens. He loves it when Poe praises him, and he loves that Poe gives the praise freely. The commander doesn’t seem to be one to hold back when he’s proud of someone.

And because Poe is Poe, the commander tugs on Finn’s ear playfully, chuckling when Finn glares up at him.

“I’m trying to focus on the landing here,” Finn huffs.

“You’ll be fine,” Poe says.

Finn wants to think so too, but the landing is always what makes him most nervous. He hates this part. The base is already in view, which means Finn has about thirty seconds left to freak out before he has to land the ship.

The thirty seconds are over before he can savor the panic. Kriffing stars.

“Landing gear,” Finn mutters, “Thrusters, legs, got my three greens.”

“Flaps,” Poe whispers.

“Flaps,” Finn repeats nervously.

“You’re doing great, buddy,” Poe says, giving Finn’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Finn grits through his teeth.

Poe is about to protest when a beep interrupts.

“What’s that? Why is it beeping?” Finn asks, frantically looking at the dash.

“Relax, Finn,” Poe says, leaning down again. “The worst thing you can do is let your panic get the best of you. Take it one breath at a time, buddy.”

Finn grimaces, wincing when the beeping becomes more insistent. They’re hovering over the landing pad, and Finn trusts Poe to keep the ship steady as he freaks out and searches for the culprit. Deep breath, one shaky exhale. Oh, there. Finn zeroes in on the blinking light, groaning when he realizes what it is. The third leg of the ship is stuck.

“Keep us steady,” Finn says, slipping out of the seat.

“Where are you going?” Poe asks, making a mad grab for the joystick.

The ship tilts right, which sends Finn crashing onto Poe, but somehow the commander keeps a hand on the joysticks and gets them level again. Except now Finn is sprawled on top of Poe. Oops.

“I’m going to get the leg unstuck,” Finn finally says breathlessly.

“A little more warning next time, buddy,” Poe says with a chuckle.

Finn flushes, helping Poe up.

“I’ll fix this,” he murmurs, stepping out of the cockpit before Poe can protest.

Three steps into the hold, he stops. There’s no way he’ll get a visual on the stuck leg, so it’s a real test of his Force abilities. The thought of that thrills him, but it also makes a little fear worm its way into his mind. No. He won’t let it stay. Finn shakes himself out and exhales, then sinks to one knee, palm flat on the ground. He closes his eyes and lets the Force guide him, probing around the underbelly of the ship until he feels the stiffness of the ship’s leg and its refusal to unfold. Finn is gentle as he coaxes the Force to push it down, but the leg resists. He huffs, placing his other hand down as he wills the leg to extend. It creaks and protests, but finally _finally_ snaps into place.

Finn sits back and sighs. The slight jolt of the ship touching solid ground jostles him a little, but he waits there for Poe to come out of the cockpit.

“You alright?” Poe asks.

Concern creases his brow, and Finn wants to smooth it away with a kiss. Wait, no. Bad thoughts. Finn gives Poe a thumbs up, suppressing a surprised yelp when the commander pulls Finn to his feet.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Poe says.

“Nothing to— Poe!” Finn says, voice thick with indignation. “The landing gear was busted!”

“You had it under control,” Poe says, entirely too nonchalant as he claps Finn on the shoulder. “You’ll be almost as good a pilot as me soon.”

“Almost as…” Finn trails off, watching Poe walk off the ship. “Wait! No, no. Come back here, Poe. Almost as good?”

“Yeah,” Poe says with a grin. “I mean, I am _the_ best pilot in the resistance and I’m not about to give up that title.”

Finn guffaws, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Is that a challenge?”

Poe’s giving him a look that’s a little too sexy; the cocky, raised eyebrow and the half-smirk. Stars, what has Finn gotten himself into. The commander leans in closer, hands on his hips.

“It’s a guarantee,” Poe murmurs, meeting Finn’s eyes with a teasing glint.

“We’ll see about that,” Finn whispers back.

Poe waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop flirting on my tarmac,” Rose huffs, striding over.

“Your tarmac?” Finn and Poe say.

“Do you guys _have_ to be so obnoxiously coordinated?” Rose asks, wrinkling her nose.

“We’re not,” they both say.

Oops.

Rose rolls her eyes. “The general is looking for you, Dameron.”

“Uh oh,” Poe winces.

“What did you do?” Finn asks, frowning.

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out,” Poe says with a shrug. “Wish me luck.”

“May the Force be with you,” Finn murmurs.

Then it’s awkward silence. Rose is giving him a really weird look, a small smile on her lips.

“You’re creeping me out,” Finn says.

“Mm,” is all Rose says before she walks off.

Finn wants to pester her until she spills, but something tells him it’s probably better if he doesn’t push it. Yeah, that’s probably better.

—

Whenever he finishes Jedi training he comes back to the Falcon. Maybe because using the Force is still so new to him. Maybe because the Falcon feels like home. Maybe because Poe is usually on the Falcon, and Poe also feels like home. Finn sucks his teeth, annoyed with himself. Seriously, this pining over Poe has to stop.

But that doesn’t stop him from going into the Falcon anyway, footsteps echoing as he approaches the cockpit.

And there’s Poe, fiddling with one of the Falcon’s many side switches. The commander’s back is to him, silhouetted by the light that pours in from the dusty window. Finn grimaces; the Falcon desperately needs to be hosed down, but they’re taking it out so often there’s barely enough time for necessary repairs, much less _cleaning_.

“Need parts?” Finn asks.

“Don’t know yet,” Poe grunts, pulling something that cracks.

They both freeze, peering at the broken piece.

“Well, that answers my question,” Finn snorts.

“Yeah,” Poe sighs.

Poe turns to him and kriffing _stars_ why is his shirt open like that? Finn keeps forgetting that the pilot has taken a liking to keeping his shirt so…unbuttoned. Finn’s not complaining. Maybe a little. It’s kriffing distracting. Actually, no, it’s _fucking_ distracting, because this means Finn has a very clear view of Poe’s fucking neck and his fucking collarbones and his fucking chest.

And it’s in moments like these, when they’re forced to be pressed together by the lack of space in the Falcon’s cockpit, that Finn gets a little jumpy.

He wraps his fingers around Poe’s bicep. It’s grounding to feel Poe’s warmth, and it keeps Poe from getting too close and making Finn extra flustered. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

“You okay?” Poe asks, and Finn knows Poe’s been asking him this too much lately.

“Yeah, fine,” Finn says too quickly.

Poe’s eyebrows shoot up and he gives Finn a knowing look.

“Is that why you’re crushing my arm?”

“Sorry!” Finn squeaks, letting go.

Poe chuckles, moving his hand up Finn’s arm. Finn grips the back of the seat because his knees are definitely weak. Poe’s doing the thing where he cups Finn’s neck, his thumb brushing against the juncture of Finn’s neck and jaw, and that simple touch feels so ridiculously intimate and soft that Finn’s stomach somersaults.

“I’m always here for you, buddy,” Poe says softly.

Finn melts. And then he pulls Poe in for a hug, heart racing when Poe buries his face in Finn’s neck. They stay in the embrace for a moment, savoring each other’s warmth, then Finn pulls back. Too much Poe is intoxicating.

“Thank you,” Finn whispers.

“Anything for you, Finn,” Poe says, and _wow_ now Finn is definitely a complete mess. “Wanna help me find that part?”

“Oh, yeah sure,” he mutters.

Poe gestures for Finn to go first, but Finn gestures for Poe to go first. And then, naturally, they both decide to step out at the same time, thighs and chests and hips pressed together. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad.

“You go first,” Poe says, snorting when Finn says the same.

“ _Poe,_ ” Finn groans.

“I defer to you,” Poe says.

“What?”

“You’re the Jedi.”

“And you’re a commande— Poe, just move!” Finn huffs.

Poe bites back a laugh, scooting out of the cockpit before Finn can pull his ear. The goofy smile on Poe’s face, and the equally goofy teasing look in his eyes…Finn bites back a grin, feigning annoyance, but it’s obvious Poe sees right through that. Finn follows the commander out, and as he sees Poe jog out of the Falcon he wonders how he ever thought Poe was super serious and intimidating. Granted, that lasted maybe all of two weeks before Finn realized Poe was actually a massive dork. But Poe was _Finn’s_ massive dork.

Finn pauses at the Falcon’s exit, trying to wipe the smile off his face. The last thing he needs is to come out of the Falcon right after Poe with a stupid dopey smile because people will think things of them that aren’t true. And that thought makes Finn’s cheeks all hot. _Focus,_ Finn.

He is a man on a mission. Finn strides off the Falcon searching for Rey (and doesn’t bother telling Poe he’ll catch up later, because he doesn’t need Poe around for this), and finds her standing by an X-wing, BB-8 going in circles around her feet. He waits until he sees Poe disappear into the crowd, then lets out a relieved sigh.

“Finn! What’s wrong?” Rey says.

Oh. Is it that obvious that Finn is in slight distress? He looks down at BB-8, who beeps and trills about Poe. Of course it’s about Poe. Everything is about Poe.

“Beebee, can you give us a minute?” Finn asks.

BB-8 stops moving, mechanical eye going from Finn to Rey to Finn again. Finn feels bad, but he also doesn’t trust BB-8 to not rat him out; the little droid is Poe’s child, and unflinchingly loyal. But after an eon of staring at Finn, BB-8 bleeps something that Finn doesn’t quite catch but makes Rey hiss at the droid as he rolls away.

Rey looks at Finn, the concern clear in her eyes, and raises her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

Well, moment of truth. Finn squares his shoulders and leans a little bit closer to Rey.

“Do you think Poe likes me?” Finn asks, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.

Rey leans closer, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do I think what?”

Finn sucks his teeth. “Do you think Poe likes me?”

Rey looks pensive for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder. “Why _wouldn’t_ he like you?”

Okay, maybe Rey wasn’t the best person to ask. Finn sighs. “I meant _like_ like.”

“Like, boyfriend-like?” Rey asks.

Finn’s eyes go wide. He’s not sure why because that’s _exactly_ what he means, but it still makes him all hot and flustered.

“Yes.”

Finn whips around, ready to scream, but it’s just Rose, looking amused with her arms crossed on her chest.

“How do you know who I’m even talking about?” Finn squawks.

Rose pulls a face and snorts. “Because there’s only one person that fits in this scenario.”

Finn folds his arms across his chest and flexes his jaw. He’s trying to look intimidating but it’s probably not working. He still goes for it.

“You don’t know that,” Finn mutters.

“Finn.”

Rose raises one eyebrow and gives him a knowing look. Okay, so that didn’t work.

“Okay fine, yes, it’s about— a pilot,” Finn admits. He was going to say Poe’s name but they’re in the middle of the base, and if Rose already heard their whole conversation…

“If you’re asking whether or not you should confess, _please_ do,” Rose says.

“I can’t do that!” Finn squeaks. “I need to _know_ if he likes me first.”

“But you _do_ know,” says Rose. “You just don’t want to admit that you know.”

Finn looks at Rey with pleading eyes, but she only shrugs. “It makes sense. He acts different around you. It’s like he gets all soft or something.”

“I don’t know why I bothered aski— where are you taking me?” Finn huffs, scrambling to keep up when Rose takes his hand.

“Relax, Finn,” she says.

He can’t relax, not even when he sees that she’s taking him to Snap, not Poe. Well, at least she’s not making him fess up now.

“Hey guys,” Snap salutes them, leaning against the nose of his X-wing.

“Does Poe like Finn?” Rose asks.

“ _Rose._ ”

“Wow, straight to the point, huh?” Snap chuckles. “Poe likes everyone.”

Rose glares at him. “Does Poe _like_ like Finn?”

“Oh. _Ooooh._ Yes,” Snap says.

“Told you,” says Rose.

“Wait, you had doubts about that?” Snap asks.

“Maybe,” Finn mutters.

“Every time he looks at you he has hearts in his eyes,” Snap says with a snort. “It’s kind of annoying actually. He looks at you like you’re the whole universe. His breath hitches _every time_ he sees you. And don’t even get me started on how much he talks about you.”

Finn balks a little, his cheeks hot. He thought he was infatuated with Poe, but Poe…

Stars, Poe was such a sweetheart.

“We lost him,” he hears Snap say. “They’re both idiots, I’m telling you, Rose.”

“I am not!” Finn snaps.

“You’re not what?” Poe asks, because of course he decides this moment to pop up again.

“Fuck,” Finn squawks.

“Buddy, relax,” Poe says, giving Rose and Snap a confused look.

To Finn’s immense relief, they both just shrug, looking very nonchalant and very not-suspicious.

“I’m not an idiot,” Finn says.

“Why would anyone ever say that?” Poe asks, narrowing his eyes at Rose and Snap.

“Oh, no reason,” Snap says.

But he sniffs and scratches his nose, raising his eyebrows when Finn and Poe both look his way. Then Finn looks at Poe and the realization that dawns on Poe’s face. Of course Finn should have known Snap and Poe could tell each other things without words; they’d been friends for ages. But that realization on Poe’s face…Finn didn’t want to speculate.

“We should fix that part,” Finn splutters.

“Huh?”

“On the Falcon?”

“Oh, right. Yes,” Poe nods, enthusiastically enough for that permanently unruly curl to bounce.

Finn tries not to smile at that. But maybe he’s not doing a great job, because he hears Rose and Snap snicker behind him. He flips them off, which makes Snap lose it, but before Poe can turn around to look Finn grabs the commander’s arm.

“They’re being stupid, just ignore them,” Finn mutters.

“Oh?”

Finn glares at Poe, who gives him a rightly suspicious look, but Finn is _not_ going to budge on this.

It turns out fixing parts is not their forte. Poe can be handy in a pinch, but for some reason replacing a small switch ends up being far more complicated than either of them expected. Poe tries first, removing the rest of the broken switch with a loud crack. The plastisteel practically crumbles in his hand and he makes a face, letting the broken pieces fall to the floor before he wipes his hand clean of the dust. Finn winces, wishing he could sweep the debris away; as far as he’s come with acclimating to life on the base, he still sometimes wishes thing would be a little _cleaner_. And Poe clearly isn’t helping.

But the commander is focused on replacing the switch. He hands the plastisteel plate that secures the switch to Finn, then tries twisting the new switch into place. For some reason, it doesn’t fit.

“Wrong size?” Finn asks.

Yet when Poe holds it up again, it _looks_ like it belongs there. Poe lets out an offended huff when he sees Finn’s amused expression.

“You try it,” he mutters, pressing the piece into Finn’s hand and taking the plastisteel plate.

Finn tries to step closer, but they’re squashed between the wall and the left seat. Poe is practically sitting on the armrest, but that does nothing to help give Finn enough space. The back of his thighs and his back are pressed to the front of Poe’s thighs and Poe’s chest. He can feel the little annoyed huff of breath against the back of his neck when Poe sighs.

Focus, Finn. He peers at the piece, then tries screwing it into place. That doesn’t work. He tries to shove it in to see if it clicks into place, but that doesn’t work either. He sucks his teeth, pressing the switch in hard enough for it to bite the skin of his thumb.

“Having trouble, buddy?” Poe asks, and the teasing tone of his voice makes Finn groan.

“You must’ve picked the wrong switch,” Finn says.

He tries to turn around, but that means his ass ends up awkwardly wedged onto Poe’s lap. Okay, this is _not_ what he needs right now. Finn extracts himself from the corner, glaring at the broken switch.

“It is _not_ the wrong part,” Poe grumbles.

A grunt comes from the entrance of the cockpit, and Finn turns to see Klaud’s yellow bulk taking up the entrance.

“Klaud! Just the man we need,” Poe cries.

Finn rolls his eyes. They should’ve looked for Klaud from the very beginning, but then he thinks of Poe’s warmth against him, pressed against his back, and Finn’s annoyance melts. Yeah, okay, maybe he _wanted_ to be in a tight space with Poe.

Klaud takes the plastisteel plate from Poe, then the switch from Finn, shooing them out of the cockpit before he starts to work. Poe grins, taking Finn’s hand as they walk towards the exit.

Naturally, Rose and Snap are still outside. And, naturally, they both look over as Poe and Finn step off the Falcon’s ramp, hands still clasped together. Snap waggles his eyebrows and gives them a steamy look, while Rose raises her eyebrows and makes a smoochy face. Finn kriffing hates them right now. But luck is on Finn’s side, because Poe doesn’t notice, too busy craning his neck to look at an arriving X-wing to see Snap and Rose’s goofing around.

“That was fast,” Snap says.

“Huh?” Poe finally turns to them.

“That was fast,” Snap repeats. “I took you for a guy with more stamina, Poe. I gotta admit I’m disappointed.”

Poe turns red, his ears and neck flushed. He gives Finn a panicked look, but Finn stares back. Stamina. Why would Snap bring up stamina for fixing a ship part? Unless—

_Oh._

Finn is going to strangle Snap.

“Don’t make me ask Karé to time you,” Poe finally splutters.

Rose sucks in her breath, wincing. “There’s no recovering from that, Snap.”

Snap sniffs, feigning offense. “I’ll let it slide this time, Dameron.”

“Finn!” Rey squeaks. “Come on!”

“Wha—”

She rips him from Poe’s grip before he can finish. Well, that’s one way to get out of an embarrassing situation. He spares one glance over his shoulder, snorting when he sees Poe, still flushed, jabbing a finger at Snap’s chest. Finn really truly thanks the Force Rey had impeccable timing.


	2. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Poe go on a mission. Poe's piloting kind of sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally super excited to write the mission then I realized I suck at writing action and now I hate it so that's why I'm kinda breezing through them, sorry! I also just, in general, don't love this chapter lmfaooooooo, but it'll get better I promise! Also I'm gonna pretend that Poe is like...kinda Puerto Rican bc that's why I am so that's what I'm able to reference. And yes, people from Yavin IV speak Spanish. Because I said so.

“Alright, Finn, I hope you’ve been working out because this cargo will _not_ be easy to move,” Poe says, pulling out a data pad.

Finn snorts. When Poe gives him an offended look, Finn squeezes Poe’s bicep and raises his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, have you tried carrying BB-8 on the daily basis?” Poe huffs.

“Why would I do that to myself?” Finn asks.

“To feel the beautiful binary love of a droid baby,” Poe says through his teeth.

“I think I’m fine with kneeling every time,” Finn says.

Of course, BB-8 picks that exact moment to roll by, beeping a snarky response before he bumps past Finn and Poe.

“Take that up with your dad, not me,” Finn snaps back.

BB-8 pauses and gives Finn a once over, then trills something Finn doesn’t understand. Poe stifles a snort.

“What did he just say?” Finn asks, but Poe doesn’t answer.

Finn nudges him and Poe shrugs. “Nothing.”

BB-8 answers with a series of whirrs and beeps and trills as the little droid vibrates. Finn catches his name, the word love, the word idiot, and the word head. Poe takes a menacing step towards the droid, but BB-8 lets out an angry beep and rolls off.

“Don’t pull that on me,” Poe calls out, but the droid is gone.

Finn gives him a look. Poe tries to play it off, hugging the data pad to his chest.

“We should check on the crew,” Poe says, ears slightly flushed.

Finn hums his assent. He’ll find out what BB-8 said. _He will._

It’s not a solo mission. (Solo missions are also not technically solo missions, because Finn counts him and Poe as a solo mission, but whatever.) On the ship with them now is Norik, Oron, Tonkins, and some guy Finn’s never seen before (and frankly too much time has passed since Poe said his name for Finn to ask again so he settles for not knowing this guy’s name). And BB-8, of course.

“We should get the med supplies on first,” Poe says, scrolling through the inventory list of the supply cache. “Oron and you keep lookout while Finn, Beebee, and I infiltrate. Norik and Tonkins, you can focus on getting the weapons on.”

They all nod, uncomfortable in the silence. Finn wishes they’d been able to get people he knew better, but he knows that’s putting too many high-profile Resistance fighters on one ship, which is precarious at best. He and Poe are already a high risk together, but apparently Leia thinks they work well together.

“We need to meet with the contact on Wayward Comet so they can give us the coordinates to the cache, then we’ll pick up the supplies and leave,” Poe says. “Fairly straightforward. Shouldn’t have too many hiccups.” Then he mutters, “hopefully.”

“May the Force be with you,” Finn says.

“With us,” Poe murmurs.

They all respond with the same. Even BB-8. And just like that, they’re ready to go.

The refueling station makes Finn nervous. He’s never been keen on places that rely entirely on artificial atmospheres; spaceships are one thing, but knowing his feet are on solid rock and nothing but the vacuum of space outside…a shiver runs down his spine. He sticks close to Poe, BB-8 at his feet, until Poe stops and grabs Finn’s hand.

“Contact wants to meet alone,” Poe murmurs. “Keep your head down, okay? I don’t trust this place.”

Finn gulps, but nods.

With nothing else to do, and because he figures standing awkwardly in the very center of the crowd makes him look suspicious, Finn takes a seat at the bar. BB-8 ducks into the space between his feet and the bar, low beeps as he peeks past Finn’s legs.

“I don’t like it either, Beebee,” Finn mutters.

He hopes Poe doesn’t take long.

In the meantime, the bartender slides him a drink he didn’t ask for, so he nurses it and lets the condensation wet his hands. He doesn’t understand this. A bar in a refueling station on a comet. A really _really_ bad combination. If a drunk someone decides to fire his blaster or crash his ship and ignite the fuel tank…

Finn takes a deep breath. He knows most places aren’t planned with First Order precision. He has to get used to that.

But then the back of his neck prickles. Finn tenses, looking down the bar as best he can out of the corner of his eye. Someone is watching him. He twists on his stool, elbow on the countertop as he surveys the crowd and—

There. The Clawdite at the end of the bar was watching him. But so was the Dashade three steps to Finn’s left. Fuck. This isn’t good. Finn glances around, searching for Poe, but the commander is nowhere in sight. Well, he doesn’t want to lead them to the ship, but he can’t stay either. Everything about this feels wrong.

The Dashade bumps into Finn and nearly knocks him off the stool. BB-8 beeps shrilly, rolling out of Finn’s way; the Dashade grabs the collar of Finn’s shirt, rough as he pulls Finn close, and Finn winces when his hot breath hits Finn’s face.

“I know you,” the Dashade growls.

“I’m sure you do,” Finn says. “I’m a big deal in the Resistance.”

The Dashade huffs, raising his fist to pummel Finn but Finn is faster. And Finn has the Force. He lets his hand hover in front of the Dashade’s chest, where it’s hidden from everyone else but BB-8, and holds the Dashade still. The look of shock on the Dashade’s face is almost comical as he tries to bring his fist down, but finds he can’t move.

“Next time, don’t try me,” Finn grits with as menacing a voice he can manage.

He extracts himself from the Dashade’s grip and gestures for BB-8 to follow him. The droid does with a series of beeps and trills that sounds like BB-8 is praising him (and laughing at the Dashade). And, thankfully, Poe chooses this exact moment to reappear and clap Finn on the shoulder.

Finn grabs Poe by the elbow and urges the commander on.

“Finn, what’s wrong?”

“Just keep walking,” Finn hisses. He stops Poe from turning around and practically drags him back to the ship. But he doesn’t have to explain, because BB-8 very helpfully does, with exaggerated beeps and the odd low bloop.

“You stopped a Dashade?” Poe asks. “That’s impressive.”

“Can we just get off this oversized boulder?” Finn grunts.

Poe gives him a bright smile and pulls him into the cockpit, then gives Finn’s upper arm a comforting squeeze. Maybe Finn should take the grumpy down a notch.

“We good?” Poe asks.

He gets four thumbs-up and a little droid lighter as a response. When Finn doesn’t respond, Poe gives him a pointed look.

“Seriously?” Finn asks.

“Seriously,” Poe repeats with a smile.

Finn gives him a reluctant thumbs up, snorting when Poe gives him a satisfied grin.

“Alright. Next stop, Avedot,” Poe mutters, making the jump into hyperspace.

The base is encrusted into the mountainside, with a diminutive landing pad that juts out onto the precipice. There’s a New Republic insignia above the door that’s marred by a blaster burn, but otherwise it looks pristine. And yet, and yet. Finn feels like something will go wrong. He tries to shake it off, in part because he doesn’t want to make Poe worry over nothing, so when the commander gives him a curious look with raised eyebrows, Finn answers with a smile.

Apparently convinced, Poe strides off the ramp. “C’mon, Beebee.”

Finn and the droid follow him, and Finn shivers when a strong wind blows. They’re halfway up a steep gorge, and the wind seems to funnel down it with a ferocity that cuts through Finn’s jacket. He wraps his arms around himself and hunches over, stomping his way to Poe’s side.

“Scoot over,” Finn mutters, teeth chattering.

“What?”

“Scoot over, I’m freezing,” Finn repeats.

Poe steps closer to the door, just out of the way of the wind, but he pulls Finn and wraps his arms around Finn (Finn totally doesn’t melt over how sweet this is. Not. At. All.). BB-8 beeps something, already hard at work to get the door open.

“Right, of course we should have checked the weather of the planet _we didn’t know we were going to_ ,” Poe hisses.

BB-8 stops and swivels to give Poe a scathing look. It’s still amazing to Finn how expressive the little droid. But after a very low bloop, BB-8 gets back to work.

Just as Finn is about to complain, the door hisses open. He stumbles in, wincing when his footsteps echo in the hallway, with BB-8 and Poe close behind.

“Control room should be here,” Poe says, pointing to the thick blast-proof doors on the right. BB-8 bleeps an acknowledgement and rolls up to the control panel; it doesn’t take long for the droid to open the door. Poe and Finn rush in, blasters ready just in case, but when they confirm there’s no one else there, they start unlocking all of the base’s doors. An angry beep goes off, red light blinking for the depot door.

“What’s in that room?” Finn asks, pressing the open door button again like that’s going to fix anything.

“Uh, nothing important, apparently,” Poe mutters. “Let’s get Norik and Tonkins in here so they can start moving things out.”

They help out at first, getting the medical supplies on board, but when it comes to the weapons, Finn backs off. Something tells him he should get closer to the control room, even with the ever present angry beep of the half-stuck depot door still going off. BB-8 follows him with a curious bleep, then looks at Poe.

“Tell him to get closer over here,” Finn murmurs.

BB-8 trills in assent and rolls off to find Poe; they come back a moment later, Poe out of breath and wide-eyed, and BB-8 trilling and whistling and blooping a mile a minute.

“You’re okay?” Poe asks.

“I’m fine,” Finn says with a frown.

“Don't scare me like that, Beebee!”

The droid bloops, little head drooping.

“Something about this just feels off,” Finn whispers.

“Why are you whispering?” Poe asks.

“Because something about this feels off, Poe!” Finn grits through his teeth. “I’ve got a bad feeling about—

Finn hears a blaster go off. Kriff. They’re supposed to be here alone, but then he remembers the Clawdite that gave him a funny look at the refueling station and he grimaces.

“D’you think—”

“I’d rather _not_ think,” Poe mutters.

Finn huffs, smacking the commander’s shoulder. “We should go check what’s wrong.”

Poe nods, one hand gripping his blaster and the other reaching for Finn’s. Finn doesn’t think hand-holding in close quarters in a possible lightfight is the smartest idea, but he twines his fingers with Poe’s anyway.

The walk back to the entrance is eerily quiet. The second ceiling light to the left continues to flicker, and though they try to keep their footsteps quiet, Finn feels like their heels are echoing tenfold. Everything feels wrong.

Poe is about to breach the entrance when Finn pulls him back in and shakes his head. He takes the lead instead, ignoring Poe’s angry hiss, and peeks.

Tonkins is dead.

Fuck.

Finn is about to turn and whisper to Poe when a hulking figure steps into the doorframe, blocking out the sunlight. It’s an Aqualish, big and mean and ugly, with a blaster cocked onto his shoulder.

Finn doesn’t think. He just shoots.

The Aqualish falls with a grunt, clutching his left shoulder, and Finn grabs Poe’s hand before they break into a run. The rest of the gang is not far behind, and in an instant, they’re being barraged by blaster fire from the Clawdite and a human woman, blonde hair slicked back. Finn only catches a glimpse of her before Poe pulls him into the control room and punches the blaster door shut.

“Come on, Finn,” the woman says, “that’s no way to say hello.”

“Uh, Poe,” Finn whispers, “who is that?”

Poe gulps, hand on Finn’s chest to keep him from pacing.

“Kendoh Voss,” Poe mutters.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Finn hisses back.

“She’s a bounty hunter,” Poe snaps. “And she works with a crew, which you’ve met. Fuck, this is not good.”

“How many?”

“Three others.”

“She only had two with her,” Finn mutters.

A pause. Poe sighs, then hangs his head.

“I can make this easy for you, boys,” Kendoh bellows. “If you come on out, your friends don’t have to die.”

Finn grinds his teeth at that. The gall of her to say that, knowing he’d seen Tonkins. He has half a mind to go out and pop her right in the kneecap. But he knows that’s not a smart thing to do. He needs to be strategic about this, so he can save the rest of their crew.

“I’ll draw them off,” Finn says at last.

“What?” Poe snaps. “No. Absolutely not.”

“This isn’t a debate, Poe,” Finn says resolutely. “And I’m not asking for permission either. I’m the bigger bounty, they’ll chase after me. You go help Oron and Norik finish with loading the weapons and get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Poe hisses.

“Pick me up once you’re on the ship,” Finn says. He strides to the control panel and taps around until he finds the base schematics. “See there? That’s a tunnel that leads out to the other side of the mountain. It’s probably where they came from. I’ll lead them back and keep them away from you.”

“I’d rather not have to do this the hard way,” Kendoh says. They hear her pace outside, the clack of her heels sharp against the metal floor.

Poe looks at the holomap, worry etched into his brow. He doesn’t look convinced, but Finn isn’t going to give him a choice.

“Finn—”

“No,” Finn’s eyes flash.

“How are you getting out?” Poe asks.

Even though the commander’s shoulders are tense, this is a good sign. Good. He needs Poe on his side.

“Vents,” Finn says with a grimace.

Poe chuckles, tilting his head to look at the closest one.

“Don’t get hurt,” Poe murmurs. He pulls Finn in for a hug, a brief squeeze that brings Finn an immense amount of comfort, then they pull apart. Finn sighs and closes his eyes, dismantling the vent’s grate and Force floating them down onto the floor next to BB-8, who lets out an impressed bloop. Finn winks at the droid, then clambers onto the control panel, Poe’s hand on his thigh as he steadies himself.

“I can bring you in cold if I need to,” Kendoh taunts.

“I’m starting to regret this idea,” Finn grunts, hoisting himself into the vent.

“For the record, I was against this from the moment you mentioned it,” Poe says.

Finn wishes he could turn around and make a face at the commander; instead he shimmies further into the vents, sighing when he’s fully inside. He hates how small the space feels. He hates leaving Poe behind, and he hates feeling the waves of anxiety roil off the commander even as he shimmies further down the vents.

It feels like an eternity. He’s quiet about it until he’s sure he’s much farther down the hallway, then he starts making a racket; he’ll bang his blaster on the side and kick the heel of his boot into the tinny metal until he feels the Clawdite move his way. Kriff, it took him forever.

Finn makes his way to the closest exit, which should lead to a spot behind Remex, and closes his eyes. The screws on the vent are easy to twist out with the Force, and Finn floats them down gently onto the floor along with the grate. Then he slips out, cursing under his breath when he jostles the grate. Still, it seems Remex hasn’t noticed him. He sets his blaster to stun, then sneaks around the corner and fires.

The Clawdite shrieks, stumbling against the wall and passing out. Well, _that_ was easy. Finn almost starts to gloat, but then he feels a strange ripple in the Force, like something is about to happen that will rip this place apart.

Finn turns, but he knows he’s too far. His heart drops, and he tries to stretch out his awareness as far as he can to feel for Poe, to make sure the commander is okay, because Finn can’t handle losing him, no, that can’t happen, he can’t lose Poe again—

A boom.

Finn feels a thermal detonator go off near other detonators, close enough to trigger the rest. Kriffing fucking stars, the whole place is a bomb now. Frantic beeping cuts through the silence, a thousand alarms and a thousand detonators and Finn’s own heart. He stumbles back, then breaks into a run.

But it seems this isn’t his lucky day.

“There he is!” Kendoh shouts.

_Fuck._

Finn keeps running, but he skids to a stop when he passes the door into the depot. The jammed door. The half open door that was driving him nuts earlier. He can see a speeder parked just inside. Yes. This is what he needs. He climbs through the half open door and jumps onto the speeder, cocks his blaster and shoots until the door opens again, and glides out into the hallway.

A blast sizzles past his ear. Finn mutters a heartfelt fuck under his breath, then urges the speeder faster. He’s almost at the end of the tunnel, he can feel it, and Kendoh is falling behind.

But nothing is ever easy. The thick blast doors are practically welded shut, and at the speed Finn is going…he doesn’t want to imagine what will happen if he doesn’t open this door in time. He shifts the speeder to a slower speed and closes his eyes; it still surprises him just how easily the Force comes to him, finding the right switch in the control panel to open the doors.

The speeder hiccups over the opening door. He’s out. He made it.

On the airstrip, the Kendoh Gang’s ship. Finn bares his teeth, shifting until the speeder is at max speed. It eats up the distance, almost too fast for Finn to react, but he jumps off and rolls to a stop by the ledge, just in time to see the Utai freeze before the speeder crashes into the ship.

Finn curls up, head in his arms to keep the shrapnel and heat away from his face. He lays there for what feels like an eternity, but he’s pretty sure is only a few seconds, hot air soon cut through by the cold mountain wind.

“Finn!”

That’s Poe’s voice. Poe is calling him.

Finn uncurls, squinting through the smoke and _oh my stars_ , there’s Poe and Oron and Norik and BB-8.

“You’ll have to jump,” Norik screams.

Fuck, that’s not what Finn wants to hear. He takes a long breath (well, as long he can manage with all the smoke), and runs.

He jumps.

Norik grabs his arm and pulls him on, just as a blaster bolt hits the ramp. Finn turns, and just as the door closes he sees Kendoh’s shock of blonde hair amid the smoke. Poe really has perfect timing.

Or maybe not.

The base really explodes this time, and though Poe tries to angle the ship away the blast of hot air still throws the ship sideways and sends Finn flying. He catches himself too late, the edge of the doorway clipping his eyebrow. He _knows_ he split skin, and the wound already throbs.

“Fuck!” Finn growls.

“You alright, buddy?” Poe yells.

“I thought you were the best pilot in the Resistance,” Finn hisses back.

“I _am,_ but we’re kind of running from bounty hunters and exploding bases here,” Poe grits through his teeth, punching in the coordinates.

Finn stumbles into the co-pilot’s seat, flinching when he hears the blasters bounce off the shield. He hopes Kendoh doesn’t have any heavier weaponry, or they’ll be toast. But he’s also impressed that Kendoh survived that explosion. Perhaps from her spot on the tarmac she’d been safe.

He looks at Poe, who is baring his teeth as he maneuvers them out of the gully, then taking them up and out of atmo.

“Let’s hope they didn’t sabotage the ship,” Poe grits.

“Let’s hope they didn’t _what?_ ” Finn squawks, but it’s too late. Poe’s already making the jump.

Somehow, they make it back to base. Finn’s brow is throbbing, a pain that takes up his right eye and threads up his temple. This means he’s less than happy when they finally stumble off the ramp into the humid evening.

“You guys inform Leia that we’re here,” Poe says, snaking his arm around Finn’s waist. “I’ll be in the medbay if she wants me.”

“Medbay?” Finn asks.

“Considering I almost cracked open your head, the least I can do is take you to get help,” Poe says.

Finn considers giving him a hard time, but Poe sounds guilty enough so he just lets himself be guided through the crowd, overly warm and absolutely exhausted. Some people wave at them, but it’s a fairly calm walk to medbay (especially considering how many people are usually clamoring to talk to Poe, or to Finn, which is still bizarre to him). Finn takes a deep breath and sighs, enjoying the warm, humid breeze; such a stark difference from Avedot. He’s starting to think he really hates the cold.

But at last, they’re at the medbay. Poe starts rummaging through containers, muttering as he does.

“Should you be touching that?” Finn asks.

The commander waves him off, then waves a bacta patch triumphantly. Finn sits on the edge of the bed and gives Poe a deadpan look when the commander tilts Finn’s head towards him.

“Ouch, okay that looks bad,” Poe winces, ripping open a bacta patch.

Finn glares up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning this up,” Poe mutters, hooking his finger under Finn’s chin again.

Finn’s not sure what throbs more, his split brow or the spot where Poe’s finger is pressed to his own almost feverish skin. Then Poe presses the bacta patch to the wound and Finn hisses; he tries to jerk away, but the commander must have seen that coming. He moves his hand to the back of Finn’s neck, thumb under Finn’s ear, and holds him still.

“If a nurse droid starts a fight with you because you’re doing this, I’m not defending y— ow!”

“Easy, buddy,” Poe murmurs, smoothing the patch until it covers the wound.

“It stings,” Finn huffs. He’s trying not to pout but the pout comes anyway.

And it seems like it’s working, because Poe’s eyes go all soft and the commander drags his thumb across Finn’s cheek, a caress that almost makes Finn not mad. And it almost makes Finn want to kiss Poe, with his extra-mussed post-mission hair, with his just-parted lips, the guilt and concern (and quite possibly _love_ if Finn dares to think that) in his big eyes. Poe leans a little closer, thumb dragging under Finn’s jaw, and Finn scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, swallowing hard—

“It doesn’t take that long to stick on a bacta patch, Dameron.”

The general is much louder than Finn ever thought she could be. He jumps, as does Poe, but the commander loses his balance too, flailing before Finn grabs his wrists.

“I was on my way to see you—”

“Cut the crap, Poe,” Leia says with a smile. “I’d already lost you to the depths of Finn’s eyes, you weren’t going to come to me any time soon.”

Poe flushes, neck and ears red. Finn bites back a grin, his own ears on fire. Honestly, why is _everyone_ acting like he and Poe are a couple? It’s not like they— wait…they do spend all their time together. And they share clothes. And meals. And they hug and touch each other a lot. And—

Okay, he’s going to stop now. Maybe they have a point.

“I wasn’t lost in anything,” Poe grumbles, but he refuses to meet Finn’s eye.

“C’mon, Dameron,” Leia says, waving him over. “Don’t have all day.”

Poe finally looks at Finn, eyes brimming with worry, but Leia grabs Poe’s elbow.

“Tití—”

“He’s in the _medbay,_ Poe,” Leia grits through her teeth.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn reassures him, squeezing Poe’s hand. “No thanks to you.”

Poe gawks at him, ready to spit back a retort, but the general eggs him on, herding him away from Finn. She pauses, then pats Finn’s cheek.

“Make sure you get that checked out,” she murmurs. “I wouldn’t trust Poe’s handiwork, however romantic the gesture may have been.”

Finn stifles a snort and nods. The general’s eyes twinkle and she squeezes his shoulder before glaring at Poe, who hollers at her from the entrance of the medbay. Finn’s pretty sure he hears Leia mumble something about ripping Poe a new asshole, which seems so uncharacteristically vulgar that Finn can’t help but laugh. Except, ow. His brow throbs a little. Alright, maybe he really does need more than just the little bacta patch.

—

At first he’s just sitting here for the breeze. He loves feeling it, the way it makes him shiver, how it helps him cool down from the thick evening heat. Weather is still kind of a new thing for Finn. Stormtroopers had terrain training, but under all the layers of fabric and duraplast Finn never felt a thing. Well, not entirely true. He’d felt hot and uncomfortable, even in the simulations for frigid planets, but the ever present buffer of his uniform meant he felt everything by proxy.

It’s why he doesn’t move when he feels the first drop plonk onto his forehead. Water against his skin is also still a novelty (even with daily showers), so he closes his eyes and turns his head up to the sky.

Leia always tells him to seek the Force when he has a chance, so he does. He spreads his fingers against the spongy moss and the rough concrete of the rooftop and feels. It amazes him how close the Force always is. He hardly needs to focus to feel it; even at his most frazzled he can use the Force with ease. He’s not sure if that’s the stormtrooper training that allows him to stay calm in stressful situations, or if it _means_ something. Something related to his family. Something he doesn’t want to think about yet, because he’s not ready to think about it.

Finn is completely soaked. What started as a drizzle is a complete downpour now, cold and refreshing as it washes out some of the humidity. Finn keeps his eyes closed, focusing on the space just above the ball of his nose; he frowns a little, curling his fingers into the moss, but the drop finally pools into the spot he’s focused on. He cracks one eye open, smiling when he sees a round droplet hovering above his nose. He always feels more triumphant when he does little things like this.

But one drop is boring, so Finn continues, until an entire curtain of droplets hovers above him, rippling and dancing as the rain pelts them. It’s an interesting way to keep semi-dry, but Finn likes it. He likes how the cool water radiates an inch from his skin, how alive he feels with the Force flowing through him, through the moss under his palms, through the drops. He allows himself a smile.

“Finn! Buddy, I’ve been looking for you!”

Stars, Poe nearly scared the Force out of him. The frigid droplets crash onto him and Finn curses.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Finn hisses.

“Sorry,” Poe says with a sheepish smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to sense that stuff?”

“I was trying to do something,” Finn mutters, glaring up at Poe.

But he can’t stay mad at Poe, not when the commander is struggling to hold a leather jacket over the both of them (which is pointless because Finn is already soaked but he won’t say so), and not when the rain plasters Poe’s curls down. Ugh.

“Let’s get out of this rain, I don’t want you catching a cold,” Poe says, offering Finn a hand.

Finn takes it and nearly crashes into Poe. Great. Poe chuckles, clutching Finn close before pulling him towards him into the building.

They leave a wet trail on the floor, and Finn half expects them to go back to his room, but Poe wraps his fingers around Finn’s wrist and tugs him down another hallway. Finn’s breath stutters, as does his pulse, which he _knows_ Poe felt because the commander is resting his fingertips on the soft inside of Finn’s wrist. Stars, this is already undoing all the peace he had on the roof.

At last, they’re in Poe’s room. Finn stands awkwardly in the center, because he doesn’t want to soak Poe’s bed or the plush chair.

“Stars, Finn,” Poe says, giving Finn a once over. “You look like you drowned. How long were you out there for?”

“Not that long,” Finn mutters, shrugging off his jacket. Poe takes it and hangs it to dry, and Finn is struck by how wonderfully simple and domestic that is.

“Take a warm shower and get yourself in dry clothes, I’ll be right back,” Poe says.

The commander pats Finn’s shoulder, then makes a face when he dries it off on his pants. Finn makes a face back, laughing when Poe sticks his tongue out at him before the commander steps out. Yeah, Poe is _his_ dork.

He takes a moment to look around Poe’s room. Finn’s in here pretty often, actually; he’s always with Poe, and Poe always gradually gravitates back to his room. They’ve had plenty of late-night card games with the Black Squadron, which inevitably means Poe and Finn end up in a weird warm pile because there isn’t enough room for all of them to fit. The evenings in which they invite Rose and Rey, with BB-8 trying to run circles around them, and they drink Corellian nectar and tell stories until someone falls asleep. The nights in which it’s just Finn and Poe, hunched together on Poe’s bed, sharing heat and laughter and dreams and hopes. Sometimes Poe falls asleep first, his curls tickling Finn’s cheek, but usually it’s Finn who falls asleep first, nose pressed into Poe’s neck.

He takes a quick, warm shower, then dresses, putting on Poe’s clothes. It’s convenient, sharing a clothing size with the person he spends the most time with. But it also sucks, because that means Poe raids Finn’s closet almost daily. Finn is pretty sure they both smell the same at this point, since they’re always swapping clothes. The thought of that makes his ears hot.

With a soft groan, Finn flops onto the plush chair. He lets his head hang, relishing in the feeling of being warm and dry again.

The door hisses open, revealing a frazzled Poe with a cup and a bottle. His curls are haphazard, and the unruly curl continues its victory tour, proud and tall.

“Here, drink this.”

Poe shoves a cup into Finn’s hands, then busies himself with opening the bottle.

“What is it?” Finn asks, peering cautiously over the rim.

“Just drink it,” Poe grunts, biting his lip as he finally cracks the cap open.

Finn makes a face, nose wrinkled as he looks at the commander.

“What?” Poe asks.

“I don’t know what it is!” Finn says.

“It’s to boost your immune system,” Poe huffs. “Just drink it already.”

“Isn’t that what the vitamins are for,” Finn asks, holding out a hand for Poe to drop two small blue pills onto it.

“This is _extra_ , and it’s good for you,” Poe says; he sighs when Finn doesn’t budge. “It’s lime juice, garlic, rum, and honey.”

“That’s supposed to be good for you?” Finn asks.

He brings the cup closer to his face and sniffs. It doesn’t smell bad, to his surprise. He likes how clean the citrus smells.

“My dad always made it for me,” Poe says softly.

Finn takes a cautious sip. Surprisingly, it’s good. He loves the sweet honey swirl and how it cuts through the lime and the rum. He licks a drop off his lips, then drinks the rest of it in generous sips.

Poe flops onto his bed, and Finn tries not to stare too much at the curve of Poe’s ass, or the way the commander’s pants are hugging his thighs. Finn busies himself trying to drain the dregs of his cup instead, frowning when Poe mumbles something into the pillow.

“Huh?”

“He was a bit of a hardass,” Poe repeats, crawling until he’s facing Finn. Then he wraps himself in a blanket, holding it under his chin. It takes all of Finn’s self control not to laugh.

“Oh?”

“He used to wake me up to watch the sunrise. Said it was good practice for when I became a New Republic pilot,” Poe says. He chuckles, but it’s wistful. “There’s nothing like a sunrise on Yavin IV. We lived near a summit, so there was a clear view of the valley, and each morning the sun would come and part the mist. Took my breath away every time.”

Finn tightens his grip on the cup. The yearning in Poe’s voice is contagious, and Finn finds himself wanting to know what it’s like to watch the sunrise. He loves hearing Poe talk about Yavin IV, but he also doesn’t. It’s a reminder of what was taken from him. He doesn’t have sweet memories of sitting on a porch, drinking Tarine tea to chase away the early morning cold. All of his significant memories are from the past year and a half, from the moment Slip died in front of him. It aches to hear about Poe’s childhood; on the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Poe trusts him enough to open up, but—

But it hurts. Finn hadn’t realized just how deep the emotional wound of being taken by the First Order was until he heard Poe talk about Yavin IV for the first time. And again when Rose told him about growing up on Hays Minor with Paige. And again when Snap waxed on about how he and Karé fell in love. He _wants_ these things. He wants to be able to talk about himself to people without talking about the First Order. He wants that sweet ache of nostalgia for the better days of childhood, like Poe complaining about the way his dad would hose him down on the porch after Poe would come back covered in mud, like Rose shaking her head as she remembered the way she and Paige would devise convoluted plans for getting bánh da lợn while their mother was in the other room. He wants what he can’t have. He wants to have lived a different life.

Poe notices Finn’s silence, concern creasing his brow.

“When all this is over, I’ll take you to watch the sunrise on Yavin IV,” Poe says, leaning forward to squeeze Finn’s knee.

“I’d like that,” Finn says softly.

Then it’s just silence. Poe can’t give him what he truly wants, and he can’t possibly understand what it’s like to not have lived, but Finn appreciates Poe’s sweetness nonetheless. He peers into the cup to see if he can coax another drop of honey sweet lime out of it and squawks when Poe takes the cup out of his hands.

“And to think you didn’t want to drink this,” Poe says, shaking his head.

Finn frowns and grabs for the cup, but stops before he can fully stretch his arm. He sits back and winces, rolling his back. The skin around his scar sometimes gets a little tight, and it looks like today is one of those uncomfortable days.

“What’s wrong?” Poe asks.

“Just the scar,” Finn mutters, arching his back.

That doesn’t help. He grimaces and flops back onto the chair, squeaking when Poe tugs his arm.

“C’mere,” Poe says.

Finn groans but complies. He crawls onto the bed and flops facedown into the pillow, which smells like Poe. He buries his nose deeper.

And then Poe is rolling up Finn’s shirt, gentle touches with the sweet-smelling lotion the medbay gave Finn for this. Finn still recoils at Poe’s touch; he’s not sure the scar will ever be less hypersensitive, but the commander is trying his hardest to be gentle. And he really _is_ gentle, responding to Finn’s twitches and uncomfortable groans.

But eventually, the discomfort fades. Finn sighs, humming his thanks when Poe rolls down his shirt. He feels the commander stand up, and he hears the running water from the sink, but now Finn’s a big puddle of relaxation and sleepiness so he closes his eyes and decides that fighting off his desire to sleep is definitely not worth it.

“Oh sure, yeah, fall asleep on my bed,” Poe mutters.

Finn smiles, stretches, makes himself even more comfortable.

“Finn!”

“Hm?”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Poe whines.

Finn shrugs a shoulder, laughing when Poe groans. “We both fit on this bed.”

Poe sucks his teeth.

“We’ve literally squeezed into tighter spots than this, Poe,” Finn says with an amused look.

“Yeah, whatever,” Poe grumbles. He climbs over Finn and throws his leg over Finn’s, the backs of their knees touching. Finn has no intention of moving from where he is, still lying on his stomach with his face buried in Poe’s pillow, and it seems like Poe has accepted defeat, because the commander sighs and wiggles around until he’s comfortable, then it’s just the evenness of his breath and the soft hush of rain against the window.

—

“Buddy, you’re back!”

Finn has exactly half a second to process that before he’s enveloped in Poe’s arms, nose tickled by Poe’s curls. Chewie growls behind him, sounding indignant.

“I missed you, too, Chewie— ow, hey!” Poe snaps.

The Wookiee snuffles, ruffling Poe’s hair again. Poe’s lucky Finn has an arm snaked around his waist, or the commander would’ve fallen ass-first onto the tarmac. Then there’s another set of arms around his waist, and another around his neck, and yet another encompassing him and Poe, and one more that pulls Chewie close. Rey, Rose, Snap, and Jess, all of them suffocating Finn with their group hug.

“You’re gonna break my ribs,” Poe squawks, but it’s muffled because his face is implanted in Rey’s arm.

“So ungrateful,” Snap says, but they all finally pull apart, red-cheeked and giggly.

That is, until they realize Leia is looking at them.

“General!” Finn squeaks.

She gives them an amused smile, then nods at Finn. Poe opens his mouth to say something, but Leia’s face morphs into a stoic one.

“You’ll get him back when I’m done, Dameron,” Leia says.

Finn gives a defeated-looking Poe a half hug, which Poe returns; naturally, because everyone on base is extremely obnoxious, Rose and Snap start guffawing and giggling and Finn has half a mind to turn around right then and there and tell them to knock it off. But he doesn’t. He lets Leia wrap her arm around his and lead him away from them. Still, his annoyance doesn’t last, because _this_ at least makes him feel like he is finally living. Like he belongs here. Like he’s starting to figure out the little pieces that make Finn…Finn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so starting next chapter things will start to get more Finn-centric. Still heavy on the FinnPoe, but I'm going to deep dive into what Finn's character could have been if LF and Didney hadn't nuked his arc.


	3. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn, Poe, and BB-8 are called to help a First Order occupied planet.  
> Finn continues his training with Leia, with some unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah okay this is a long-is chapter for me, so I hope you guys enjoy it!!

“This is going to be decidedly less straightforward than our other missions, but it should be easy,” Poe says, leaning on the table with a determined look.

Finn purses his lips. He shares a look with Leia, who rolls her eyes with an amused smile, and BB-8 lets out a reluctant bleep. If Poe says it will be easy, it will definitely end up _not_ being easy.

“Tevel is requesting help from the Resistance,” Leia says. “The First Order annexed them because of their bacta plant, so they want us to help them shake off the First Order. They even threw in the promise of unlimited bacta for us.”

Finn sucks in his breath. _That_ is very generous, and considering they can’t siphon off New Republic stores anymore, and considering it’s extremely risky to steal from the First Order, this is a Force-sent blessing.

“That’s…” Finn trails off.

“Yeah, unlimited supply of bacta patches for Poe to put them on your forehead next time he cracks it open,” Leia says with a wry grin.

“That was an accident,” Poe mutters, looking sheepish.

Finn bites back a chuckle.

“Well, who’s coming with?” he asks.

“I need this low-profile, actually,” Leia says, “You, Poe, and Beebee. Maz is lending you a ship that won’t get picked up by First Order scanners.”

Usually, that’s what Finn would want to hear. Absolute bliss, just him and Poe and Poe’s little droid baby, even if BB-8 had a nasty habit of ruining semi-romantic moments. But now…

“Shouldn’t we have more people?” Finn blurts. “We’re trying to remove a First Order occupation. That doesn’t seem feasible with just two people.”

BB-8 lets out an offended string of bloops.

“Sorry, two people and a droid.”

Leia nods. “Normally, yes. What they need are people to help them plan. They have the manpower and the firepower, but you have the skills and the First Order intel they need to successfully kick those bastards out.”

Finn relaxes. That sounds far more reasonable.

“Your contact is Karkan,” Leia says, “and he’ll meet you outside the plant. Try not to make too much of a mess.”

Finn and Leia both look at Poe, who balks. “What’re you looking at me for?”

But Finn pulls Poe away before Leia can explain, because he knows Poe’s offended look is purely a front. BB-8 follows them, blooping about Poe’s messes until Poe whines at him to stop.

The StarRover leaves a lot to be desired. It’s bulky and ugly and it doesn’t feel nearly as comfortable as the Falcon, especially when Finn already knows the Falcon’s quirks. Silver lining: it’s cleaner. He appreciates that Maz is better at taking care of her ships than most of the Resistance seems to be. (Well, Black One is pristine, which makes sense because that’s Poe’s other baby, but Finn wishes Poe would maybe spend a little more time on the Falcon with him, cleaning and organizing, than he spent on Black One, polishing and cleaning and fixing and being ridiculously obnoxious about it).

BB-8 rolls on with a squeal, running circles around the ship while letting out a string of beeps and bloops and whirrs.

“You’ve never been this enthusiastic about getting on Black One with me,” Poe grumbles.

BB-8 bloops a little jig about Poe being a reckless pilot and Poe gasps.

“Where is your sense of adventure, Beebee?” Poe huffs.

 _With buddy-Finn,_ BB-8 bleeps. Finn snorts, then laughs when Poe shoots him an offended look.

“I can’t believe you’re both ganging up on me,” Poe mutters, pulling Finn into the cockpit.

Of course, Poe doesn’t measure the space well, so they end up pressed together trying to squeeze through the door. Or maybe he does this on purpose because he doesn’t think having every inch of their bodies melded together in tight spaces is a problem. Maybe Poe likes this proximity. Finn likes it too, but it also makes him flustered.

So he pops out first, stumbling when BB-8 follows and rolls under his feet. Poe catches him, hands on Finn’s waist and an amused grin on his lips.

“Do you understand the concept of space?” Finn mutters.

“In theory,” Poe says with a wink.

Ugh. Finn rolls his eyes.

Leia watches them from the tarmac, raising a hand in farewell when Poe starts up the ship. Finn mirrors her, smiling warmly when she beams at him.

Then, a flurry of motion. Poe nods at him to take care of the landing gear, which Finn does. Then they’re gliding out of atmo and some of Finn’s flying anxiety comes back, knuckles stiff and pained as he grips his joystick.

But he allows himself to relax when they make the jump to hyperspace; Poe sits back and both of them sigh. Finn catches Poe’s eye and smiles, knocking his boot against Poe’s, and the commander gives him a funny look, eyes half-lidded. It’s a look that makes Finn’s stomach all fluttery.

“Really wish Maz thought to have a dejarik board on every ship,” Poe says with a sigh.

“So you can get your ass handed to you?” Finn snorts.

Poe shoots him a caustic look and knocks the toe of his boot against Finn’s. Finn knocks back.

“Whatever happened to respect your elders,” Poe grumbles.

“What do people call their grandfathers on Yavin IV?” Finn asks in a sing-song.

Poe gapes at him, gasping when BB-8 bloops something that sounds like abuelo.

“You’re supposed to be on my team!” Poe squawks.

BB-8 trills something that Finn thinks translates to laughter, and Poe sags in his chair.

“I think I’ll ask Leia to send me off on missions with a better crew,” Poe sniffs.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m a big fucking deal in the Resistance,” Finn scoffs. “You should be _honored_ to have me on your team.”

Poe gives him an unamused look.

They pass the time with games. Well, Poe says they’re games, all from when he was a kid on Yavin IV, so Finn is a little suspicious when Poe keeps winning, but he has no frame of reference to contest the results. First it’s a game of I Spy, then a few different hand games with childish songs that repeat syllables. Poe sounds adorable singing _mari, mari, po, po, mari, mari, sa, sa,_ but Finn kind of regrets suggesting they play because he knows he’s going to have the song stuck in his head now.

At last, they drop out of hyperspace. The green-yellow marble that is Tevel swells into view, and Poe guides them into a weird maneuver that is supposed to help them evade First Order scanners while they land behind a hill that will hide them from the plant.

“Ready?” Poe asks.

“I can’t say no,” Finn half jokes.

“Hey,” Poe says, warm fingers on Finn’s cheek. “You’ll do great.”

Finn swallows hard. Poe has a way of comforting Finn and simultaneously rattling him, but this is not the time to be rattled, so he allows himself a small smile before he grabs Poe’s hand and leads him out of the ship.

Karkan isn’t alone. There are two other Tevellans with him with stoic faces, acknowledging them with a nod.

“Tarina and Menon,” Karkan says when Finn looks their way. “You are?”

“Poe Dameron, Finn, and BB-8,” says Poe.

Karkan nods, and at that, Tarina relaxes. Menon, notably, does not.

“Thank you for coming,” Karkan says. “General Organa said you were the best.”

“Ah,” Finn flushes, “well, we’ll do our best.”

Oops. Maybe not the best thing to say. Menon looks mildly indignant, but Finn brushes it off. Clearly Menon is just a grumpy fucker.

“Alright, how many people do we have on our side?” Poe asks, Force bless him. The commander always manages to diffuse situations wonderfully.

“Us, and another seven,” Karkan says.

Finn winces. That’s not a promising number, and by the look on Menon’s face, the Tevellan agrees.

Poe lets out a long exhale, hands on his hips.

“And how many First Order?”

Karkan’s ears twitch. “About twenty. Most of them are on the landing platform out west.”

“Okay.” Poe’s jaw tightens. “Okay.”

He looks at Finn, and somehow Finn _knows_ exactly what Poe is thinking.

“We’ll make ten men feel like one hundred,” Poe says.

He gives Finn’s hand a squeeze, which Finn returns; Poe’s touch is always soothing.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Menon grunts.

“We’ll split them up. They’ll split the group evenly, so we should have three simultaneous explosions to draw them out. You guys split into three groups and ambush them, blasters on stun,” Finn says.

“On _stun_?” Menon hisses.

Finn glares at him. “Is there a problem?”

Menon bares his teeth, but doesn’t protest.

“Beebee, you’ll need to jam their distress signal so the First Order doesn’t catch wind of this. If they send backup, we’re screwed,” Finn says.

BB-8 bleeps an _Affirmative, buddy!_ And Poe… Poe’s looking at Finn with the most adoring eyes. Finn feels his ears get hot, but he tries to shake off his bashfulness and focus.

“Poe and I will make sure to hold the command station down to give you the access you need. Karkan should come with us, since you know the plant well,” Finn continues.

“And what will we do with the _stunned_ stormtroopers once we have them,” Menon snarls.

“We’ll think about that when we get to it,” Finn mutters.

Tarina and Menon exchange dubious looks, but neither of them say what they want to say. Good. Finn doesn’t want to spill any unnecessary blood, especially not stormtrooper blood.

The Tevellans make quick work of the setup, sneaking off without tripping any alarms to place the explosives around the plant. Nothing that will knock the plant down, since they still want it in working orders, and in truth the explosives are more smoke and noise than anything that will cause real damage. So, while the Tevellans work, Finn and Poe and BB-8 keep watch just outside the platform.

“You could’ve pitched in back there,” Finn mutters.

“Hm?”

“You could’ve helped plan,” Finn says, turning and balking at just how close Poe is. He should’ve known because he’d felt Poe’s body heat pressed against his back, but it still makes his heart all fluttery.

“What for?” Poe asks, giving Finn a tender, affectionate smile. “You did amazing.”

Finn gulps. Kriff, Poe knows exactly how to make Finn flustered.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I’ll pitch in next time,” Poe murmurs.

“No, no. That’s fine, I just wasn’t…” Finn bites his lip. “I didn’t realize it was for that reason.”

Poe wraps his arm around Finn’s shoulders, fingers brushing against Finn’s neck.

“Finn, you’re kriffing incredible,” Poe says softly. “I love seeing you take charge like that. The confidence in your eyes…” Poe trails off, ears red. “I’m proud of you, that’s all.”

Finn doesn’t bother stopping his smile. It makes his cheeks hurt in the best way, heart swelling.

But BB-8 bloops and pushes his way between them, trilling at them to pay attention because the Tevellans are almost done. Right, that’s happening now. Finn pulls up his holomap, staring at the stormtroopers marked by red dots on and around the platform. There are eighteen total, two in the control room, and he tracks the green dots that represent the Tevellans as they crawl out of range.

The detonators go off like clockwork. Two on the north side, three on the south side, and two in the east bay. The red dots on Finn’s holo map empty out of the western platform, a red mass splitting into three groups. Three groups that will promptly be ambushed by Karkan and his teams. Poe taps Finn’s waist when the platform is empty.

It’s time.

BB-8 rolls out first, crossing the platform quickly then trilling at them to keep up.

“Nobody told you to move so fast, Beebee,” Finn mutters.

BB-8 bleeps at him to stop being a slowpoke, rolling into the plant when Finn glares at him.

“No fighting,” Poe huffs.

“He started it,” Finn hisses.

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it,” Poe hisses back, pressing Finn against the wall when something clanks in the distance. Above, through the glass ceiling, they can see the remnants of thick smoke from the explosions. Finn cocks his head, prodding around the base with the Force.

“Just machinery,” he says.

“Hm?”

“That noise was just machinery, we can keep moving,” Finn repeats.

“Oh,” Poe says. Then he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “show off.”

Finn snorts, following the commander down the hall, where BB-8 has already rolled into the command room, shrill beeps when he finds himself at blasterpoint.

“Identify yourself,” the stormtroopers says.

“Drop the blaster,” Poe says.

The stormtrooper looks between Poe and Finn, practically vibrating with fear.

“Beebee, do your thing,” Finn says.

“Don’t move!” the stormtrooper squeaks.

BB-8 lets out the compressed binary equivalent of a snort and rolls around the stormtrooper, bumping against their leg before he plugs into the command center.

“I said don’t move!” the stormtrooper repeats.

Poe rolls his eyes and shoots; the stormtrooper falls, blaster falling out of their hand. Finn winces, even though he knows they’ll be fine. Still, being stunned usually leaves people with massive headaches.

BB-8 bleeps at them, locking down the bacta supply and ensuring it’s intact.

“Well,” Poe says, hand on his hip, “this is going really—”

“Do _not_ finish that sentence, Dameron,” Finn hisses.

“Wha— what do you have against optimism?” Poe squawks.

“Don’t.”

The commander makes a face at Finn, laughing when Finn groans.

“How old are you again?”

But Poe doesn’t have a chance to answer.

“We rounded up all the stormtroopers,” Karkan crackles through the comm. “We’re in east bay.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Finn replies, grabbing Poe’s wrist and dragging him into the hallway.

East bay is not too far off. The central hall of the bacta plant is long, and the doors on either side open up to the important rooms. They step into the hall from the central command room and walk down the glossy white emptiness until they reach the east bay door. The door hisses open, and twenty white helmets turn to look at him. Finn swallows hard, inching into the room until he’s at Menon’s side.

“What should we do with them?” Tarina asks.

Menon gestures with his blaster, but Finn pushes it back down with a scowl.

“We’re not the First Order,” he hisses.

Menon gives him a dirty look. “Then _what_?”

He wants to give them a chance. He wants to give them the chance to break free, just like him. He knows he can’t have been the only stormtrooper questioning his training.

Finn hops onto a crate, looking down at the handful of glossy white duraplast helmets that stare right back. Hostile, tense, but defenseless.

“Take off your helmets,” he says.

Everyone freezes.

“Finn, buddy, what are you doing?” Poe asks.

“Just trust me,” he says.

The commander grimaces, but he nods. Still, no one moves.

“Please, take off your helmets,” he repeats.

Two troopers look at each other, and one of them reaches up to remove the helmet but the other stops them. At the front of the group, a hiss as the helmet comes off. A sweaty, rouged up face looks up at him, short hair plastered down by sweat and endless helmet use. Their brown eyes are a pool of questions, and some fear, but Finn smiles down at them.

“What are you going to do to us?” they ask. “Why not just kill us?”

“Because we aren’t cannon fodder,” Finn says. “Yeah, _we._ I used to be just like you, white bucket on my head, blaster in my hand, following orders and thinking I had to prove myself just to stay alive. The First Order wants us to think we’re replaceable, interchangeable. They want us to think we’re a thousand identical particles that are only worth something when they’re useful, but that’s not true. Each one of us is worth something. Each one of us deserves to live, and to choose how we want to live. We deserve to recognize our own worth.”

The hiss of helmets fills the silence. Then it’s a sea of brown eyes looking up at him, most of them about Finn’s age, with fear and sorrow and rage on their faces. He wants to hug every one of them.

“You want us to fight for you?” one of them spits, a brown-skinned boy with red freckles and red hair.

“No,” Finn says, and the boy balks. “I want you to do what you want. I want you to choose for yourself. If that means joining the Resistance, then we’ll welcome you with open arms, but if it means disappearing into the far reaches of the galaxy and starting your life over, or becoming the first person to break all the known laws of the New Republic and the First Order, then _choose_ that.”

They’re all quiet, shifting their weight, looking at each other, then at Poe, then at Karkan, then at Finn. There’s hope in their eyes, brightening their faces, and just a smidge of fear. Finn gets it. After a lifetime of having his life controlled, the immense vastness of knowing he could _choose_ was daunting. That’s why he’d wanted to run away at first.

“We don’t want to fight,” says a girl with sharp cheekbones. “Not anymore. Not ever.”

Finn nods. “Get them a ship.”

Karkan gives him an incredulous look.

“Are you out of your mind? These are First Order bucketheads, we can’t trust them,” he hisses.

“ _I_ used to be a First Order buckethead,” Finn spits back. “Get them a ship.”

Karkan stares at him, eyes hard, but Finn doesn’t back down. He steps closer, so they won’t hear him when he says, “If it helps you feel better, put a tracker on it, but I better not hear anything about a sabotaged ship full of former stormtroopers disappearing or exploding.”

Karkan bares his teeth, but nods. “Fine.”

“He’ll take you to a ship,” Finn says, turning back to the expectant stormtroopers. _Ex-_ stormtroopers. It makes his heart sing, seeing the way their faces light up. They file after Karkan with whispers and wide-eyed glances Finn’s way.

“Thank you,” one of them murmurs.

Finn doesn’t have the breath to answer. He’s on the verge of tears, lips pressed together as he watches them go.

Then it’s just him and Poe, shoulder to shoulder, walking out into the hallway. Their footsteps echo on the white floor until a boom breaks the silence.

“Fuck,” Poe hisses, hand flying to his blaster, but Finn grabs his wrist and points to the glass ceiling, where the violet evening sky is punctuated by bursts of bright blue and green. Fireworks.

“They’re celebrating,” Finn says. His breath catches, and it finally sinks in that they did it. _They did it._ They kicked out the First Order.

“We did it,” Poe says breathlessly. “ _You_ did it.”

Finn’s about to say so as well when Poe cups his cheeks with his hands and oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

Poe is fucking _kissing him._

A sharp inhale, but then Finn melts into the kiss and wraps his hands around Poe’s wrists; he lets Poe take the lead, parting his lips when he feels the wetness of Poe’s tongue. Poe’s lashes brush against Finn’s cheek, and the unruly curl tickles Finn’s brow, but it’s all perfect. _This is perfect._ Everything from the heat of Poe’s hands cupping his face to Poe’s almost inaudible moan to the way Poe sucks on Finn’s bottom lip.

They part with sighs, and Finn chases after Poe, eyes fluttering open when he feels the commander move away. For a moment, Poe’s face is pure bliss, lips parted in awe and eyes glittering as he looks down at Finn’s lips, and for a moment Finn thinks they’re going to kiss again and his heart bloops just like BB-8 but then—

Oh, kriff. There’s panic in Poe’s eyes, and it hurts more because he looks so kriffing gorgeous with his kiss-swollen lips and the rosy flush that extends all the way down to his collarbones.

He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, opens it again.

“Fuck.”

Finn blinks. What?

“Poe!”

But Poe’s gone, rushing down the hallway that leads back to the Rover. And Finn is standing there, like an idiot, with the ghost of Poe’s kiss on his lips and his heart in pieces.

He has never _never_ felt this much tension while alone with Poe. It’s un-fucking-bearable, and it’s pissing Finn off. The commander won’t even look at him, staring straight out in front of him with so much effort it looks like he’s going to pull a muscle.

Once they make the jump to hyperspace, there’s nothing to distract them from the awful, brittle silence. Finn turns his seat to face Poe, jaw tight.

“Poe.”

The commander doesn’t respond. Just the little twitch of his jaw and his lashes fanning out against his cheek, eyes downcast. Finn doesn’t know what to feel.

“ _Poe._ ”

Still nothing. Finn feels his heart falling, throat thick with so many things he wants to say. Except he doesn’t know _what_ to say. Fuck.

“P—”

“I’m going to check the cargo,” Poe blurts, ducking out.

And now it’s just Finn and his thoughts. Half of him wants to chase after Poe and force him to talk because Finn _needs_ an explanation for what just happened. He needs to know why Poe kissed him. He needs to know why Poe panicked when it felt so _right._ What he felt when they kissed…there’s no describing that. The way Finn felt so _alive_. Not the first time, obviously. He feels that same elation when he uses the Force, when he’s with Rey and Rose and the Black Squadron and Leia and Chewie. But this is also…different. He’s not sure why it surprises him. He knows what romance is, even if the First Order liked to act like such a thing didn’t exist. Love…no, that’s not right. Not yet. Hell, maybe it is and he just hasn’t realized it yet. The one thing he knows for sure is he sure as hell wants more. Well, the other thing he knows for sure is that it kriffing hurts that Poe is avoiding him like this.

He doesn’t push it. Yet. Actually, he doesn’t trust himself to push it. The more he thinks about it, the more his hurt simmers and turns to anger. He doesn’t understand why Poe would do something like this then bolt. Unless Poe is ashamed. That makes Finn’s gut twist. No, that can’t be. Not with the almost euphoric look on Poe’s face after they kissed.

When Poe comes back from “checking the cargo,” which conveniently takes up most of their time in hyperspace, Finn grips the armrest. He stays quiet, staring out the window with the same intensity Poe had earlier. The air between them is fragile, so icy BB-8 rolls in bleeping excitedly about one of the ship’s features but promptly rolls back out with a half-bloop. He feels Poe glance at him, and the guilt and anxiety roiling off of the commander makes Finn nauseous. And yet, Poe says nothing. He just fiddles with a few switches, taps his fingers nervously against the dash, gnaws on his bottom lip. Anything to keep him from looking at Finn.

They drop out of hyperspace, the marbled blue-green surface of Ajan Kloss filling the horizon. Poe guides them into atmo, then starts the landing sequence. It’s fascinating to see him in his element, hands flying across the dash to make sure everything is in place, rogue curl bouncing as he does. Finn’s heart constricts. He looks away.

Landing is smooth, as it usually is when Poe pilots. But things inside the Rover are still frosty. Poe pauses for a moment, darts a glance at Finn, then bolts.

But Finn is faster.

“Poe,” Finn says. He plants himself squarely in the exit of the cockpit, arms folded across his chest, and the panic on Poe’s face when he sees he has no way out is clear.

“We should, um, go see Leia immediately,” Poe says with a nervous chuckle.

Finn gives him a pointed look.

“We need to talk.”

“After we inform the general—”

“No, now,” Finn says, a little too sharply. “If I let you get off this ship you’re going to disappear on me.”

Poe flinches, gnawing at his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry.”

Finn freezes. That’s not what he’s expecting to hear. That’s not what he _wants_ to hear.

“What?” he asks.

Poe sighs, hanging his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”

Finn doesn’t reply. He’s feeling a lot of things right now, his chest tight.

At last, he says, “Why?”

The commander grimaces, closing his eyes. Finn’s not sure what to think of that. Then Poe opens his mouth to speak, closes it, opens it again. Bites his lip, sighs. Finn’s never seen Poe this antsy. It’s almost cute.

“I got a little caught up in the moment,” Poe says lamely. Clearly, even _he’s_ not convinced by this. “It was a big win for us. I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

Finn swallows hard. “So?”

He’s hoping Poe will say what he’s been wanting to hear. He’s hoping Poe will say he’s been dying to kiss Finn since he saw Finn take off that ugly helmet. That he’s been wanting to kiss Finn since that day on the tarmac when Poe gave him that heavy-lidded appraising look and bit his lip because Finn was wearing _his jacket._ Finn’s heart is full, almost ready to burst with hope.

Poe looks a little shocked by this. In his eyes, absolute panic. “Stars, Finn, I really didn’t think this through. I didn’t think about how uncomfortable this would make you feel or how—”

Finn’s heart sinks. He doesn’t want to hear any more of this.

“Stop.”

Poe actually does, wide-eyed and confused and just a little bit scared at the edge in Finn’s voice.

“W-what?”

“Stop talking. I don’t—” Finn sighs, working his jaw. “I don’t want to hear this.”

Poe tries to grab Finn’s hand, but Finn evades him, rushing out of the cockpit before Poe can catch up.

He stumbles out into the humid night, so focused on getting away from Poe that he realizes he doesn’t have a plan of action. He’s just standing on the tarmac staring at the bustle of the base like a lost child, but he should probably move before Poe catches up.

“Finn!” he hears Rose scream.

Before he can locate her, she barrels into him, arms around his waist. Another pair of arms wrap around his shoulder, and he recognizes Rey’s leather bracelet.

“Hey guys,” he said, smiling when they squeeze him. “Okay, ow!”

“How was the mission?” Rose asks.

Finn’s stomach somersaults. He cranes his neck to see where Poe is, gulping when he makes eye contact with the commander. Poe’s halfway down the ramp of the ship, hair gorgeously mussed, eyes full of worry, and the second he spots Finn his breath hitches. He looks just like he did after they kissed. Fuck.

“I’ll tell you, but not here,” Finn mutters.

Rey and Rose step back; Rose glances over at Poe, then back at Finn, her eyes widening.

“Don’t,” Finn hisses.

He leads them away from the crowd, weaving through the base until they’re at his favorite alcove, wedged between the third floor and the rounded, moss-covered roof he loves so much. Leia is definitely going to hand his ass to him for not reporting to her immediately, but he’s too burnt out and upset to care.

Rey and Rose stare at him; Rey narrows her eyes at him, and Rose crosses her arms across her chest.

“So?” Rose finally asks.

Finn sighs, rubbing his face. “Poe kissed me.”

Fuck.

He was not expecting them to scream so loud.

“He WHAT?”

“Stars, Finn!”

“Was it good—”

“How long did it last—”

“Wait, why aren’t you screaming about this with us?” Rose asks.

Rey quiets at this, a pout forming when she realizes how bummed out Finn looks. Which is plenty. He certainly _feels_ really put out.

“He—” Finn starts, then he stomps his foot. “Okay, we’d just kicked the First Order off of Tevel and everyone was celebrating, and so were we, and then he just grabbed me and kissed me and _stars_ it was…” Finn trails off, closing his eyes.

“Was there tongue?” Rose whispers.

“ _Rose,_ ” Rey hisses, but she turns to Finn with a curious twinkle in her eyes. “Was there?”

Finn can’t help but laugh. Because of how ridiculous this all is. Because yes, there was most definitely tongue. Because Poe is a kriffing idiot.

“Yeah.”

Of course Rey and Rose scream _again._ Finn flinches, hissing at them to stop.

“Sorry, sorry!” Rey splutters. “Finn, that’s amazing!”

Finn grimaces. “He panicked after he kissed me, and then he didn’t talk to me on the way back, and _then_ I cornered him before we got off the ship and he apologized because he _got caught up in the moment_ , whatever the fuck _that’s_ supposed to mean.”

“Oh.”

Rey and Rose exchange glances, then give Finn worried smiles.

“I thought—” Finn gnaws at his bottom lip, then snorts. “I thought he’d tell me that he liked me.”

“Oh, Finn,” Rey says, pulling Finn into a hug.

They embrace, quiet until they hear cheering from the tarmac. Probably Snap and Jess.

“Let’s get some food in you,” says Rose.

“I’d rather not go to the mess hall—”

“If Poe—”

“The pilot,” Finn whispers.

“If the pilot is there, we can take the meal to go,” Rose says.

“Fine.”

“Oh, I’ll catch you guys later,” says Rey.

Finn and Rose give her a suspicious look. Rey balks and takes a step back.

“I promised Connix I’d meet her before dinner!” Rey squawks.

Finn purses his lips and raises his eyebrows, and Rose…Rose looks a little miffed. Hm, weird.

“Fine, Finn and I will go to the mess hall,” Rose sniffs.

She twines her fingers with Finn’s and pulls him off the alcove, walking so quickly Finn stumbles.

“What’s that about?” Finn mutters.

Rose purses her lips. “Clearly Rey would rather be elsewhere instead of coming to dinner with you for emotional support.”

Finn pulls a skeptical face. Yeah, okay, like he’s going to believe that. Rose blushes a little when she sees his face but doesn’t push it.

To his immense relief, Poe doesn’t seem to be in the mess hall. Finn doesn’t see him, nor does he feel Poe’s effervescent presence in the Force. They pick up their food, then Rose guides him to the unofficial Black Squadron table, where Snap, Karé, and Jess are sitting. Jess clambers out to give Finn and Rose proper hugs, while Snap does his usual salute and Karé waves.

“How was that mission?” Snap asks.

Finn sits down in silence, avoiding the pilot’s eyes. An awkward hush settles over the table, and Finn fills it by starting on his dinner.

“Did I do something wrong?” Snap asks Karé in a hushed voice.

“It’s not you, it’s your commander,” Finn says.

“Oh, great,” Snap says, the relief palpable. “Wait, do I even want to know what he did?”

When Finn and Rose look at each other, Snap groans.

“No, no, don’t tell me,” Snap says, shaking his head.

“Wait, speak for yourself,” says Jess, smacking Snap’s arm. “I wanna know.”

Finn debates whether or not he wants to tell them. He doesn’t exactly want the whole base to know Poe kissed him, but if anyone can give him insight on Poe’s weirdness it’s the Black Squadron. And he’s still reeling, and still kind of hurt, and still confused, so he leans forward and waits for them to do the same.

“Poe kissed me.”

Dead silence. Finn can practically hear the gears turning in their heads. It’s _almost_ comical.

“I’m sorry, wait,” Snap starts, “did you just say Poe Dameron _kissed_ you?”

“Don’t repeat it!” Finn hisses.

They stare, dumbfounded. Finn puts down his fork and stares back until Snap starts to laugh.

“I’m assuming Poe did something ridiculously stupid after or he would be here screaming my ear off about this,” Snap says.

Finn repeats his story, tapping his fingers on the table as he does. It makes him antsy to think about the commander, about the fact that they really kissed. Like, that actually happened. _They kissed._

When he finishes, silence again, but this time it’s actually comical. Finn bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the pure shock on Snap and Jess’s faces. Karé is hiding a smile behind her hand, eyes twinkling.

“Fuck’s sake,” Snap finally says. “Force fuck me, I cannot _believe_ Dameron is this monumentally _stupid._ ”

Jess is holding back laughter, fist pressed against her mouth, and Karé is now rubbing her temple. For some reason, this is actually making Finn feel better.

“That sounds like Dameron alright,” says Karé.

“I mean, come on,” Snap continues. “Who goes around kissing their friends and then saying it was spur of the moment excitement?”

“Apparently _he_ does,” Finn mutters.

Rose pats his hand.

“Actually, Poe _did_ kiss me after he found out I wasn’t a spy,” Snap says. “Most awkward moment of my life.”

“He kissed all of us after that,” Karé adds. “Full on the lips. No tongue though, thank the Force.”

“Oh.”

“Wait!” Snap squawks. “Don’t think Poe doesn’t like you because of that! Forget I said anything.”

Finn still slumps in his seat.

“Finn, I’m serious,” Snap continues. “Poe is literally nuts about you, he’s just too much of an idiot to confess.”

“This would’ve been the right moment for that,” Finn says quietly.

“Exactly,” Snap says, “if you have even half a braincell, but Poe doesn’t.”

Finn can’t help but snort, hiding his face in his hands. Maybe Snap had a point.

“He’ll come around eventually,” says Karé, patting Finn’s shoulder. “For your sake, and for Temmin’s, I hope so.”

Finn peeks at Snap, who lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Remember what I said about him literally never shutting up about you? Yeah, I’d like for that to change,” says Snap. “At least if he’s with you as a couple, he’ll wax on about how lovely you are as a boyfriend and it’s not as pitiful as hearing him pine over you.”

Finn feels his cheeks heat up. But he has to admit that hearing the squadron confirm that Poe really does _like_ like him makes this hurt a little less. Even if Poe is an idiot. Because Poe is _his_ idiot. And Finn is willing to wait for Poe to come around.

—

Leia asks him to join her earlier than usual today. This is only a problem because Finn has developed a heavy appreciation for sleeping in when he has the chance, a luxury he didn’t know existed before he left the First Order, but it’s not easy to ignore BB-8’s insistent bleeping that he _Wake up, buddy! Rise and shine, buddy! Seize the day, buddy!_ so he finally crawls out of bed (and BB-8 trills out a celebration then rolls out of his room).

The day is already muggy, so Finn sheds his usual long-sleeved shirt in favor of a black tank top; it earns him quite a few looks on his way to the training grounds, and he arrives with hot ears. He’s noticed that people on base tend to… _notice_ him. Not in a bad way, but more in a possibly flirty way; romances among stormtroopers were always illicit, painfully tense things, nothing like this carefree, casual appraisal and attraction. He thinks he likes it, but that doesn’t make him any less flustered. It doesn’t help that Leia gives him a wry smile after she gives him a once over.

“You look like Luke today,” she says. When he doesn’t respond, she says, “That’s a good thing, Finn.”

“Oh,” Finn sputters. “Thank you, General.”

“Please, Finn, enough with the _general_ ,” Leia says, pinching Finn’s cheek. “Call me Aunt Leia. That’s an order.”

“A-aunt?” Finn sputters.

Leia smiles at him. “Poe already calls me that, and you two are practically married. It only makes sense.”

Finn chokes, his ears hot. Even _Leia_ knows. Kriffing stars, this is _not_ good.

“W-we’re no—”

“Snap already told me all about what happened on Tevel, Finn,” Leia says, waving her hand. “I love Dameron but most of the time his head’s in his cockpit. That boy never thinks things through.”

Finn squashes down the desire to laugh, half amused at Leia’s annoyance and half outraged at Snap telling her about it. He’ll get his revenge on Snap.

“Yeah, I guess he doesn’t,” Finn murmurs.

Leia opens her mouth to speak when a squeal breaks the silence, and Finn has all of two seconds to realize what’s going to happen before Rey tackles him.

“Rey!” Finn yelps, stumbling under her weight.

“Ha! You felt me coming, didn’t you?” she asks, hopping around him until they’re face to face.

He gives her a deadpan look. “Yeah.”

“If you’re done fooling around, we’ll start training now,” Leia said with a wry smile.

No lightsaber training today. Leia wants them to focus on the Force, so they slip into this weird dance, testing and pushing and pulling and spinning and jumping around each other, an elaborate choreography of feeling each other’s presence in the Force. Rey always feels flighty; she’s always in movement, always propelling herself towards the next point, always jumping before she looks. She complements Finn well, because he’s decidedly not like that. He’s careful, always trying to calculate his moves with First Order precision (he’s letting go of that, slowly, but it’s not easy). He matches his breath with his movement, slow, steady, and tries to stay inside that in-and-out, that swirling, churning current of air that was his inhalations and exhalations. He feels for where he wants to land before he jumps, but still matches Rey’s movement.

Then it’s a test of strength. They each find a boulder to lift under Leia’s careful scrutiny. Finn is extra picky about his boulder, circling and dragging his feet until he finds one that’s twice his height, semi-encrusted in the forest floor and covered in wonderfully green moss. He plants his feet into the ground and closes his eyes, letting them flutter open once he has a Force grip on the stone, then he makes it hover.

He lets out a controlled exhale, arms outstretched as he lifts the boulder. With a flick of his hand, he starts the eddy in the Force that makes it turn, revolving slowly, gracefully, as it drips with moss and dirt. Being so plugged into the Force like this makes Finn hyper-aware, so he feels Rose and Poe when they’re still quite far off; sensing Poe makes his focus buckle just a little, and the boulder shimmies and dips before it rights itself. He knows Leia felt it, if her gentle, disapproving Force prod is anything to go by.

But finally, Rose and Poe arrive. Finn feels them stand next to Leia, but he doesn’t turn around, not even when he hears Poe say in a really small voice, “Arms.”

Rose, who chooses that exact moment to take a sip from her water bottle, chokes on her drink, dissolving into spluttering coughs. Finn bites back a laugh, and he tries to keep the boulder afloat, but his concentration is shot now. And it’s because of Poe kriffing Dameron. He’d been so close to setting a new record, too (he’d done five turns last week, and he wanted to get to ten); Finn sets the boulder down with a frustrated sigh, then turns and waves to them. Well, he’s mostly waving at Rose, because things are still a tiny bit icy between him and Poe. And it’s Poe’s fault for avoiding Finn for the last two days.

Poe is beet red, hiding his face in his hands, and Rose is still choking on her water, tears in her eyes. Finn claps Rose on the back, rubbing small circles until she’s able to wipe her tears and giggle without gasping for air. She’d red-faced, and each time she looks at Poe’s red ears her giggles start again.

“Why are you here, Poe?” Leia finally asks. She presses her lips into a thin line, raising an eyebrow when Poe looks at her from between his fingers.

“W— well, you’re sending me on a mission,” Poe stutters.

“That I am.”

“So I’m waiting for Finn,” Poe says.

“I’m sending _you_ on a mission,” Leia repeats. “Finn stays with me.”

Poe finally drops his hands and gawks at her, looking at Finn, then back at the general. “I need him.”

“You were perfectly capable of going on missions by yourself before Finn was here,” Leia says with a knowing smile.

Finn bites the inside of his cheek. The emotions on Poe’s face range from a second of panic to the realization that he won’t be able to talk his way out of this to the resignation that he’s actually doing a solo mission. Finn doesn’t want to be amused because he’s still a little hurt, but it really _is_ funny just how dramatic the commander is. Poe sighs, his shoulders sagging, and he looks at Leia through his thick lashes.

“Tití—”

“Don’t try it, Poe,” Leia.

“But I—”

“ _Go,_ Dameron.”

Poe lets his head fall back, groaning. Finn tries not to be obvious about admiring Poe’s exposed neck, lowering his eyes when he realizes Rose is watching him with a smile. “Fine, I’ll leave now.”

If he’d been hoping that Leia would budge, she doesn’t. The general purses her lips, patting Poe’s cheek when he kisses her temple.

“And don’t interrupt Finn’s training again, you hear me?” she says.

“Understood, general,” Poe says.

Leia sighs but smiles, meeting Finn’s eye; Finn grins, shifting his weight with hot ears.

Poe turns to Finn with a sheepish smile, but there’s also definitely a heaviness that looks like guilt. Good. At least he feels bad about breaking Finn’s heart. Not that he _knows_ that he broke Finn’s heart, but Finn’s not going to confess. Nope. Poe can do it.

But the commander is awkwardly standing there, and as the seconds pass Leia starts to get more irritated so Finn steps closer and claps a hand on Poe’s shoulder, friend-like.

“Make sure you come back to me in one piece,” Finn mutters.

“Anything for you, Finn,” Poe says.

Kriff. The way Poe says that, combined with the softness in his eyes, makes the hurt Finn felt earlier come back with a crash.

“C’mere,” Poe says.

He pulls Finn in for a hug, and just like that, the tension between them melts. It should take more than a kriffing good hug, but Poe’s hugs are always so comforting, his warmth, his scent, the gentle but solid way he wraps his arms around Finn. Finn’s ears heat up, because Poe, as usual, has buried his nose in Finn’s neck; Rose snickers, sticking her tongue out at Finn when he glares at her.

“You can live without me for a few days,” Finn jokes.

“I _can_ but do I _want_ to?” Poe whines.

Rose stifles a snort, wide-eyed when Poe shoots her an embarrassed look.

“Okay, okay! We’re leaving!” Poe squeaks.

Leia is nonplussed, folding her arms across her chest until the commander finally turns around and walks away.

“Wait until I tell Snap about this,” Rose whispers, then ducks out of Finn’s reach.

“What?! No! No, no. Rose! Get back here!” Finn squawks.

He takes a step towards her, but Leia gives him a scathing look that most definitely scares him. Somehow she’s even scarier now that he’s calling her Aunt Leia.

“Sit here,” Leia says, pointing towards a flat-ish rock. He clambers on, cross-legged, and waits. “I’ll set Rey up with a spot to meditate, then I’ll come back. In the meantime, eyes closed and focusing on your breath.”

Finn nods. He closes his eyes, smiling when Rey gives his arm a squeeze then walks off.

The green of Ajan Kloss is vibrant. Even with his eyes closed, Finn can picture it. The lushness, the constant chirp of birds and cricket song, the creak of trees in the breeze; it’s easy to get lost in a place that’s so alive. Finn is used to the blankness of First Order bases and ships, where there’s nothing but the hum and whine of machinery, the occasional marching footsteps of a unit echoing in the duraplast and plastisteel hallways.

“You need to focus, Finn,” Leia says.

She stands behind Finn and pushes his shoulders down. Right, he needs to let go. Tension is bad. Tension makes things get tangled. He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders drop. And just like that, the Force flows through him with more ease.

But Leia isn’t done. She taps his head until he lets it fall forward, chin to chest, then presses two fingers to the rounded knoll of the back of his neck.

“You must always come back to your center,” Leia continues. “Immerse yourself in the Force, but don’t _lose_ yourself. Always focus on that little spark that is just _you._ ”

The world explodes.

It’s like Leia has thrown him into a wild ocean, the waves tossing him until he has no choice but to yield and become a part of it. He’s an unraveling thread, floundering and struggling to keep himself together until Leia stops him, gently, and reminds him to _focus. Breathe._ Finn takes a deep breath, then lets go.

A strange thing happens. He doesn’t know where he ends and Leia begins, an amalgamation of the Force, a flux of Master and Padawan, and in this ebb and flow is where the visions start. Snippets of the past, but he doesn’t know if they belong to him or to Leia.

 _My sister has it._ The thick green scent of the forest moon of Endor, the sweet ache of love between family.

 _My son._ A lullaby, cradled in thick orange silk and crushed jasmines, the must of tomes and desert dryness.

 _I’m here to rescue you._ The cold hard bench of a cell in the Death Star, clinical and sterile.

 _Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope._ Smoke and blaster burns and the viscous danger of the Dark Side on the other side of the ship.

 _The Force is with you, young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi yet._ Vader’s exhale, a silhouette wreathed in mist.

 _Submit your blaster for inspection_. Ripe fear. The suction of putting the helmet back on.

For one blinding moment, Finn thinks he never left. He never escaped, never saved Poe, never met Rey. He almost screams, but Leia’s cool hand brings him back; she whispers his name, over and over, a hushed mantra that finally coaxes Finn’s lungs back to normal.

He’s here. He’s on Ajan Kloss. He got away. _He got away._

They’re both quiet for a moment, and Leia wraps her arms around Finn. He rests his head on her shoulder, holding back tears. As silly as it sounds, he hadn’t thought the Force would ever leave him this _raw_.

“The Force will make you confront ugly truths, Finn,” Leia says at last. “Don’t shy away from them. Do not be afraid of them. Accept that they will bring you pain, but that you can survive that pain.”

Finn nods. He can’t bring himself to speak. He wouldn’t even know what to say.

“Take some time and meditate,” Leia says with a smile. She pats Finn’s hand. “As long as you need to. Until you feel like you’re calm again. Then you get the rest of the day off.”

He doesn’t want her to leave. Her presence is a comfort to him; he can’t focus on his own selfness, his own spark, but Leia is a bright warm star. Something comes to him then, a scratchy warbled voice that says _luminous beings we are, not this crude matter,_ and the thick wet heat of a swamp. He holds her hand, tightening his grip when she tries to leave.

“Please,” he says softly.

Leia gives him a sad smile, then presses a kiss to his temple.

“I’m always here for you, Finn,” she murmurs, “but some things must be done alone.”

Finn nods. He knows it’s true. Hell, he’s been the one to decide he needs to do something by himself a few times (even if it meant leaving a dejected Poe and Rey behind). And he knows he wants Leia to stay because it will keep him from thinking about what he doesn’t want to think about.

“Never doubt that the Force is with you,” Leia says.

She pats his cheek once more, then wends her way down the path that leads back to the base.

And now, Finn has no excuse but to face what just happened. He’s never had Force visions quite like this. Sometimes a snippet of a phrase, sometimes a scent, sometimes the weight of a breeze, but nothing that leaves him on the verge of tears.

But he knows the Force must have shown him each one of these visions for a reason, whether he likes that reason or not. All of them are ricocheting in the hollow that is himself, the parts he hasn’t filled in yet with his time at the base.

Finn screws his eyes shut. _My son_. He reaches for that, the weight of his pain buckling in the Force, but it’s a push-and-pull, a need to know who could have said this, and a need to stay in his simple anonymity just a little longer. Except there’s nothing simple about Finn. He knows this, and he knows the Force is telling him this.

Fuck.

Still, he reaches for it, trying to bring back the fustiness of ancient tomes and the arid crispness of desert air, the sweet warmth of jasmine. He focuses on the orange silk, the way it rustles, and suddenly he sees a hand gloved in black. But his elation is short-lived; as soon as he perks at the sight, it vanishes. Focus, Finn. Breathe.

He tries again, eyes closed as he evens his breath out. Jasmine, must, orange silk, black glove.

Nothing.

No matter how much he tries again, he can’t seem to get any closer to finding out more about this vision, or any of the others. He gets a snippet of a stormtrooper’s finger holding down a button by a mic, the nervousness clear in his voice as he says _We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?_ He’s not even sure why the Force would show him that.

He frowns, jaw tense. One more try. He _has_ to find out _something._ Once more; jasmine, must, orange silk, black glove. The rustle of silk, the man’s voice. _My son._

But nothing. It’s just the vibrant life of Ajan Kloss, the thick sweet humidity of the jungle, the spongy green moss that cushions the rock he sits on, and—

And Rey, picking her way through the vegetation. Finn smiles, but he keeps his eyes closed with the guise of being deep in meditation.

“Finn!”

He doesn’t react.

“Oh, knock it off, I know you’re not focused,” she huffs.

Finn snorts, finally fluttering his eyes open. “Why aren’t _you_ meditating?”

Her smile vanishes. She bites her lip and averts her eyes, but she sits beside him and rests her head on his shoulder.

“Can’t focus,” she mumbles.

“Force visions?” he asks.

“Hm? Oh no, I haven’t had one in a while,” she says. “I’m just antsy, that’s all. And then I felt that you were distressed, so I waited until Leia left to come over here.”

Finn laughs. “You know she probably knows you’re here now.”

Rey grins at him. “Nothing gets past her, does it?”

Then they’re quiet, just them and the Force and the jungle, the gentle flow of their breath and a whisper of a breeze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rey finally asks.

Finn tenses, shakes his head. He wants to push the visions to the back of his mind, squeeze them into a pinprick of a thought so it gets lost in the debris. But he also wants to cultivate them and see if they’ll grow into answers; either way, they’re off limits until he can figure out what to do.

“Do you want to be alone?” Rey asks.

“Nah,” Finn says. He wants distractions now. Just his luck Poe and Rose are gone now. “Let’s go back to base, I need a shower.”

“You sure?”

Finn looks at Rey, at the concern in her eyes. She looks wilted, which she usually does after training. She won’t complain about the humidity after a lifetime of Jakku’s nasty dry heat, but he knows it wears her down. He smiles at her, and it feels genuine. Yeah, he can face a crowd now.

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I’m good, Rey.”

She stands up and holds out a hand, which Finn takes. “Then let’s go back.”

Finn takes a deep breath; a look over his shoulder at the rock he’d been sitting on. He imagines his visions in a bright little orb, taking a seat where he’d been. Patient, maybe a little amused, but with a quiet expectancy, anticipating the day when Finn will come back to them.

Rey gives his hand a gentle squeeze, an unspoken _you okay?_ Finn squeezes back with a smile. With a nod from Rey, they start down the wending path back to the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the super uneven quality lmfaooooo. let me know if you guys liked it in the comments, or come bother me on twitter at honeyedsunshine or on tumblr at poedameronsahijada!!


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